TMNT: Under the Midnight Sun
by tmntpunx
Summary: Donatello isn't about to let April O'Neil finish her journalism degree and move across country without letting her know how he's felt since they were teenagers. But when something inexplicable arrives in Earth's atmosphere on the night of their first date it's hardly something the turtles can ignore. A story about life, love, and how we rediscover ourselves and each other.
1. Chapter 1

Donatello pushed his glasses back up his snout. "Perfect," he said, a smile hesitantly spreading across his face as he admired his work.

The telescope was ready. He had spent weeks tinkering with it, between experiments, tech support calls and his own online class work, and now the hunk of junk Michelangelo had scraped out of a dumpster was a veritable gateway to the stars.

And April's heart.

Donatello swallowed against a lump traveling up his throat. He pushed his glasses back up his snout again. He didn't have much time. April was almost done with her journalism degree. She would be going to graduate school soon; the acceptance letters were already rolling in. All she needed to do was say yes.

And April had sounded _very _interested in the Masters in Communication program at UC Berkeley lately. Whenever she mentioned it, Donatello always smiled, and nodded, made sure to spout off some stats on the university's ranking (which were excellent, unfortunately), all while silently hoping, pleading, even _praying_ that April wouldn't choose a program on the other side of the country. Hoping that she would not go where he could not follow.

He turned the telescope over in his hands, trying to focus on the cool metal cylinder. He had never had a telescope before. He had never needed one. There were no stars in the sewers. Donatello had been puzzled that Michelangelo had brought such a thing back at all, but then he remembered how he had told Michelangelo about those those hot Northampton nights he and April had shared. Nights too hot to do anything other than sit on the porch swing and sweat, and talk, though Donatello had mostly just listened. More than once April had mentioned climbing up on the farmhouse roof with her father with her telescope as a child. Donatello had few fond memories of his childhood. It was a dark, dank lonely place, spent confined below the ground. But he could understand why April felt such nostalgia for hers. Things were simpler, then. Safer. And then the Hamato clan and the Kraang had broken over her life like Hokusai's Great Wave, and nothing would ever be the same.

But maybe, just _maybe_, he could give her a glimpse back into that simpler, safe life, even without Northampton. Tonight.

New York City hardly offered the same views as the Northampton farmhouse, sequestered away upstate, away from the traffic, and the people, and the light pollution, but still - it was an excuse to spend a night alone, with April, on top of a roof, under the stars. Donatello forced himself to take a deep breath as his pebbly skin prickled.

_Now or never,_ he repeated silently to himself.

He was running out of time. Graduation was only months away, and April would have to make a decision before that; she would have to make her decision within _weeks_. His stomach lurched at the thought. _A west coast school._ He swallowed reflexively, trying to rid his mouth of a sudden bad taste creeping over his tongue. But it was April's choice. It had always been her choice, hadn't it?

"It's now or never," the turtle mumbled. He meant it to be more of a declaration, but the words just fell out of his mouth, like tools falling out of a drawer that was packed too tightly.

"What wazzat?" came a cheery voice from the hall.

"Nothing, Michelangelo!" Donatello barked reflexively.

A smiling face peered around the doorway. "You talking to that telescope again?"

Donatello's shoulders hunched. "Maybe."

"Oh come on, dude." Michelangelo swung into the lab.

Donatello sighed. He knew he should have kept the door closed, but he had needed the extra light from the hall to complete the last adjustments to the telescope. He made a mental note to put in an order for more LEDs for his lab and be done with it. Michelangelo leaned on the worktable beside him. The youngest turtle cocked his head to the side, as if examining his brother. Donatello felt Michelangelo's blue eyes on him. He shifted his weight. Trained his eyes on his work table.

Michelangelo leaned in and whispered, "She already knows you like her."

"Michelangelo!" Donatello wheezed, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks as he swatted his youngest brother away.

"What?" The youngest turtle shrugged, as if April O'Neil, April "Love of Donatello's Life" O'Neil, was no big deal.

"It's true! All you have to do is _tell _her."

"I - "There were so many reasons not to tell her, to let everything continue business as usual. In the years since they had first met April, their friendship had grown into something he never thought he would share with anyone, much less a human. Much less a human _woman._ His thoughts drifted to her, then. Her long, fiery red hair and how it swung from side to side across her shoulders as she walked. Her fierce blue eyes. The constellation of freckles illuminating her cheeks. How smart she was. How tenacious. How beautiful.

"She's not gonna be around forever, you know," Michelangelo said. Though he was smiling, there was a heaviness to his voice that had not been present in his earlier cajoling.

"She might end up at a grad program here in New York, or maybe even DC," Donatello replied, hoping - even though he knew better - that what he was positing could be true. He hefted the telescope up, bringing the eyepiece to his spectacles. He peered into the telescope with one eye, squinting the other. Distractions aside, there was no denying it - Michelangelo was obviously, painfully right. "It's only a train ride away…"

As if any of them could just get on a train.

"You're missin' the point, dude," Michelangelo said, a smile crinkling the edges of his bright blue eyes. "You gotta tell her."

"I will," Donatello said, setting the telescope down on his work table. "Tonight."

Michelangelo raised a single brow ridge in doubt.

"I will!" Donatello insisted. "I found the perfect rooftop. The telescope is finally ready. And Jupiter is going to be so _bright_ tonight." The turtle rested his head in one hand while he idly caressed the track pad of his laptop with the other. "We might even be able to see it through the smog."

_It's going to be perfect_, he thought_. _Donatello had it all planned. He would pack a thermos of coffee, and a blanket, and strap the telescope to his shell. They would have a picnic under the stars, and he would tell her he loved her. And there was some small part of him that hoped that it would give her a reason to stay. With a tap, he refreshed the weather page he had up in his browser. A small smile tugged at the corner of Donatello's mouth. Clear skies all night. _Perfect_.

"How romantic!" Michelangelo sighed beside him. "Geez, Don, I didn't know you had it in ya."

Donatello rolled his eyes at his brother. "Don't be patronizing."

"You think I don't know what that means, but I totally do," Michelangelo gave Donatello gentle pat on Donatello's shell before he drifted away from the workbench.

Donatello felt his shoulders slump, but he forced himself to hold in the sigh burning in his lungs as much as his heart. The youngest turtle paused at the doorway. Donatello shot a glance back at Michelangelo over his shoulder, brow still furrowed.

"Open or shut?" Michelangelo asked with a smile.

"Shut," Donatello grumbled as he turned back to his work. "Please!" he added hastily.

The door shut quietly behind him, and Donatello's shoulders sagged in relief. Michelangelo was right. Everybody knew. Including April. She had to know. She was too smart not to. Donatello pinched the bridge of his nose. _She knows_, he told himself. They had just never actually _talked_ about it. In all the years, through all the battles, every insane adventure, and all the hardship, they had never talked about it. Not once. There had been so many times that the words were there, at the tip of his tongue, crowding at the edge of his mouth, screaming to be said, to be heard; but he had never actually said them aloud. Not to her.

Donatello stood, gathering a handful of tools that lay splayed across his work table. It wasn't as if he hadn't wanted to tell her. He had. He had wanted to tell her a thousand times. But when she and Casey had gotten together, it had just seemed pointless. He yanked open one of the drawers in his tool chest and started dumping things in. A frown settled over his face. But that was over now. April had moved on.

Hadn't she? Donatello nervously chewed his lip.

She no longer came to the lair with Casey. Or left with him. Michelangelo had been the only one brazen enough to actually ask one night, after Casey left alone - _So are you two still, like, a __**thing**_? He remembered her face, the sad smile that blossomed on her rosebud lips, and how he couldn't hear anything but his heart in his ears until she said it - _No. But it's for the best. Really_. The words were right there that night, burning his tongue like a slice of Michelangelo's ghost pepper pizza, but he just choked them back with a glass of milk.

Donatello did not count this with the many times he had wanted to tell her, but the words were still there, clamoring at the back of his throat. The shadow passenger that was with him, always, in every battle, and late night chat session, and over every dinner. Those four unspoken words, burned into his heart, burning brighter with every laugh, every smile, every sideways glance across the workbench.

_I love you, April_.

Donatello shut the toolbox drawer. It clattered loudly in the quiet of his lab. This was it. It was time. He was going to tell her.

_Tonight. _

The turtle sat down at his bench again and paused. He gently slid his hand down his finished work. The telescope hadn't been in all that bad of shape when Michelangelo brought it to him. The optical tube was undamaged, and the aperture seemed to adjust just fine. He had only needed to repair the focuser and the eyepiece, and replace the mounting hardware. It was a perfectly fine piece of equipment; it just needed a few minor repairs. Donatello's face scrunched into a frown. He had never understood why humans were always so eager to just throw things away. But their loss was his gain.

_One man's trash is a turtle's treasure, I guess_, he thought, setting the telescope back down on his work table.

A knock came at the door, and Donatello turned to face the sound. His brothers rarely bothered him when the door to his lab was closed.

"Come in!" he called.

The door opened slowly to reveal Leonardo's lean silhouette.

"Leo!" Donatello said, a little too quickly and much too loudly. "Is everything alright?"

"Oh." A smile cracked Leonardo's face, making his eyes shine. "Of course. I'm sorry to interrupt," he shrugged apologetically. "I just heard tonight's the big night."

_Michelangelo_, Donatello seethed silently. And then he sighed. "Yep," he said, forcing a smile. "Big night."

"Is April coming by…?"

Donatello almost chuckled at his brother's question. He felt like a teen on prom night in one of Michelangelo's rom coms. Unfortunately the VHS collection was full of them, and Michelangelo would not allow anyone throw them away. Was this the part where his date came to the house and got a talking to from Dad? The part where April O'Neil got the Hurt My Precious Baby And _I'll Kill You_ talk? He smiled wryly, thinking about it. He knew April would never hurt him. Not intentionally.

She had chosen Casey. After years of both of them vying for her, she had chosen him. April and Casey had been a thing. It was the most sensible decision, and Donatello had understood, even though it had hurt. He remembered the first time he had witnessed them kissing with painful clarity. It was Halloween, and they were all up topside for the parade. The one night he and his brothers could be above without fear of any major repercussions (though Michelangelo and Raphael always seemed to find themselves in some sort of trouble). April had been dressed as a witch, and Casey - Casey was the hockey mask wearing monster from Friday the 13th. Of course. Donatello and Michelangelo had been walking in tandem, Michelangelo going on about which flavors of Jolly Ranchers he liked best, when Donatello had seen them. Casey's fingers had entwined April's, and her neck craned up towards his. And her eyes. Her blue eyes had shone so brightly looking at Casey that night. She had kissed him a hundred times, before. But she had never looked at him like that. Casey's mask was off in a second, and when their lips had met, Donatello felt a pit in his stomach swelling up like a black hole, ready to consume everything within reach.

It had hurt less each time, after that.

"Don?"

"Oh," Donatello blinked behind his glasses. "I'm meeting her topside."

"Well, I won't keep you," Leonardo said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just wanted to say that I'm proud of you. It's been a long time coming."

There was a sadness in Leonardo's voice that Donatello knew all too well. It crept in now and again, when he thought about her. And they all danced around it, this sadness, felt, and heard, but never said. And they kept going. Leonardo had made his choice.

"Yeah," Donatello nodded. "It has."

"Right," Leo said, smiling lopsidedly. "But I'm sure we can manage patrol without you tonight."

Donatello paused. He had completely forgotten. He had been so engrossed in making sure the telescope was functional, in checking the weather report, in _planning_ that he had forgotten.

Then the eldest turtle winked. "I won't tell Sensei."

"Thanks, Leo," Donatello said quietly, smiling for real this time.

"Open or closed?"

"Ah," Don began with a quick glance back to the telescope. If he stayed in his lab he would only continue to fuss with it. He could adjust the finderscope. Tighten the mount. He shook his head. "Open's fine. I've got, stuff," he gestured with a floppy hand at the door, thinking about the thermos of coffee he still needed to make for his rendezvous with April that evening. "You know. Stuff. And things."

Leonardo nodded, and just like that, he was gone. Donatello did not even hear his brother's footsteps as he walked away. Donatello stood, awkwardly brushing off his thighs off before adjusting his knee pads. The telescope was ready. He had an extra blanket under his bed. But there was still coffee to be made. He tapped his smart watch with a single finger and the time blinked back at him. He could still make it on time. As long as he wasn't waylaid by any more chit chat.

Donatello zipped down the hall to the kitchen, where Raphael was seated at the table eating breakfast cereal for dinner. He did not look up from reading the back of the cereal box when Donatello entered, and as far as Donatello was concerned, it was just as well. He had work to do.

As Raphael crunched on his cereal, loudly grinding his teeth over each bite, Donatello bent to root around for his good (expensive) coffee out of the back of the fridge. He silently hoped that Michelangelo hadn't used what was left of it the last time he decided to watch every Star Wars movie in one sitting. When he saw a crinkled brown bag wedged between the milk and Leonardo's tub of Greek yogurt, his shoulders sagged in relief. As he emerged from the depths of the refrigerator, crumpled up bag of coffee beans in hand, Raphael was staring at him over his cereal bowl, green eyes flat and mirthless.

"You know she already knows, right?"

"Yes, Raphael," Donatello exhaled a sigh of exasperation and dragged his free hand over his face, leaving his glasses askew. "I know."

**Postscript:** Thank you for reading! I needed to write something a little more...lighthearted after wrapping up PFT. Putting this one out here has been a long time coming, but thank you to theherocomplex for beta reading this chapter and bouncing off ideas for this fic!


	2. Chapter 2

Despite the consistent projections for clear weather that night, the visibility was crap.

Or at least, crap in comparison to what Donatello had been hoping for. Curling gray clouds drifted in over the horizon, obscuring the stars, but not even the clouds themselves could not dampen how the the New York City lights shone across the ocean. It was truly a sight to behold, but not if your sights were set on the stars.

The turtle wrinkled his nose and forced his gaze from the clouds back to the city skyline. Past the labyrinth of warehouses that lined the docks downtown glimmered in the distance, shining brightly as any star. Glass and metal reflected a brilliant play of rainbow lights from billboards flashing advertisement after advertisement for products, services, _shit_ no one actually needed. Yet the show continued, cutting the edge of the dark with allusions to a life Donatello could never reach, even if he could somehow afford it. It wasn't his world; he was only visiting.

Donatello knew he belonged down below. At best, the world might be his for a night, on top of a roof. Or on the street, hidden in shadow, behind a dumpster, or just below a manhole. Close enough to see and hear and smell everything the world had to offer, for good or for ill, but too far to reach it.

He idly stretched out his legs across the blanket beneath him, nudging an edge with a toe, trying to keep it from curling up. His finger came down over the face of his smart watch a little harder and a lot faster than he had intended it to. Donatello tapped his foot as he checked the time for the third time in three minutes. But April wasn't late. Donatello was early.

Maybe too early. He gingerly reached for the thermos of coffee. _Good_, he thought, his fingers meeting the warm metal. _Still hot_. He wanted everything to be perfect. Like Leonardo had said, this was a long time coming. It had to be perfect. Didn't it?

Donatello's gaze drifted to the black canvas of the Atlantic ocean at night. Blood reds and brilliant golds dashed across the black waves like an electric aurora borealis. The tide was high that night, loudly, hungrily lapping at the wood of the piers below.

The sound was almost soothing. Almost. Donatello tapped the smart watch on his wrist again, and the time materialized in large white numbers. He wondered if Leonardo's not-so-subtle query about whether or not April was coming to the lair first was for her safety rather than his. April could take care of herself, of course. But it was late, and the docks were a lonely place at night. Donatello had come up through the grid, emerging from a manhole that was so close to his destination that he could have hit it with a shuriken. But April was coming above ground. Alone.

Another sweep of his finger across the face of his smartwatch revealed a list of truncated New York City news headlines. The turtle's brown eyes scanned the small text furiously, checking for any indications of any young redheaded women being mugged…or worse. He shook his head. _April can take care of herself_, he reassured himself silently, allowing his wrist to fall back to his side. _She was trained just like we were._ Donatello lifted his wrist again, glancing furtively in either direction before proceeding to scan the headlines one more time. Just in case.

Just as Donatello was beginning to mull over just what he would need to do to start working on an app to tap the NYPD scanner, he heard a scraping sound at the ledge of the roof. Donatello's head jerked toward the sound, and the tails of his bandana whipped around his neck. Unseen metal rattled as someone, or some_thing,_ took another step closer. Donatello swallowed, hard. He had been so wrapped up in his plans for the evening with April that he hadn't thought to do a perimeter check.

"April?" he called with a dry mouth.

His breath caught in his throat, hanging in the silence.

"Hey Dee!" her voice rang out across the night.

Donatello's shoulders sagged in relief. "Thank the maker."

She laughed. "What are you thanking George Lucas for?"

"Oh," Donatello smiled lopsidedly. "Nothing."

The ancient emergency ladder that scaled the warehouse clattered as April found her footing. Donatello sat up straight. Took a deep breath. Tugged at the leather strap across his plastron, fingers nervously dancing across the metal buckle that was cold as the night. Spring had arrived and the snow had melted out of New York City's gutters, but it there was still a chill in the air when the sun disappeared beyond the Bronx. His scaly skin prickled, but not just because of the cool night air. He had prepared, but he had not rehearsed. _You should have rehearsed, _something inside him screamed. Too late. He blinked. Pushed his glasses up his snout. And there she was.

A grin broke across Donatello's face as April O'Neil hefted herself up onto the warehouse roof.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey," Donatello replied, standing to greet her, feeling like a bipedal noodle.

Her sneakers hit the roof with a thud and Donatello thought his heart might burst right out of his plastron. He was glad it didn't, given that it would be quite messy, and most likely end in death. But to be fair, stranger things had happened. He was a mutant, after all.

And then, there she was.

April wiped off her jeans and straightened herself. Instead of her signature yellow she was wearing a black leather jacket. _More conducive to stealth_, Donatello thought. Maybe even impervious to the night wind. She pulled her beanie back down, brushed her hair out of her eyes. She smiled at him and Donatello had to make a conscious effort to keep his knees from knocking together. She was smiling. At him. Her blue eyes glinted as brightly the city lights on the water.

"What?" she asked, cocking her head to the side.

"Oh," Donatello shrugged. "Nothing."

"You keep saying that," April laughed, wrapping her arms around him. "Thanks for inviting me out! I need a study break like Michelangelo needs sprinkles with his anchovies."

Donatello's stomach curdled. "My pleasure."

Right. _Study break._ Donatello wrinkled his nose. What was there to differentiate tonight from any other time they had hung out together? He hadn't asked her out so much as…told her he had a new telescope he wanted to test out. The turtle tugged at the buckle on his leather chest strap again. Perhaps he should have been more specific. Though, _I've been fixing up this telescope as an excuse to have a night alone and tell you I've loved you forever_ seemed a little…intense. For a first date, anyway. But this was not a date. Or was it?

"Nice find!" April's eyes darted to the telescope, which was pointed skyward.

"Hm?" Donatello blinked. "Oh. Yeah. Right. Mikey found it, actually."

He had almost forgotten about the telescope. The telescope he had sold April on this evening with. The telescope he had spent hours reading up on to repair. The telescope he had spent days pouring over the model manual online, memorizing every special feature. The telescope he had spent weeks repairing, between every other task and chore and patrol. The telescope he now remembered nothing about.

"Well, looks like you've done a great job fixing it up – "

"It wasn't that damaged, honestly," Donatello objected, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks at April's praise.

"This is _way_ nicer than my old one," April crouched down on the blanket to examine the telescope. "I can't believe somebody just chucked it."

"I know, right?" Donatello rubbed the back of his neck, felt his pebbly scales still prickling.

April tilted her head upward, toward the sky, and an evening breeze rolled over the rooftop, making her red hair dance around her shoulders. His breath caught in his throat, watching her watching the sky. Of all the sights Donatello had seen, on Earth and across the universe, in this dimension and every other, April O'Neil was by far the most beautiful.

All of the moisture instantly evaporated from his mouth, watching her. He tried to swallow. Tried to speak. He opened his mouth, hoping that the words would just fall out. _I love you, April_, but instead -

"I think the moon is coming into waxing gibbous?" Donatello choked, ripping his gaze away from April and up to the night sky. "Hopefully we won't have too much glare."

"I'm sure – " April began.

"But Jupiter's supposed to be _incredibly_ bright tonight," Donatello interrupted hastily, smiling a nervous smile. Feeling stupid for not picking another night with a quieter moon. "So we should still be able to see it."

"Sounds great." April shrugged, her lips curling into a gentle smile.

He tried to smile back, but only felt his face scrunch into something nervous and unpleasant. He pushed his glasses up his snout and cleared his throat.

"I'm sure it will be fine," he said, though it was only after he spoken the words aloud that he had said them more for himself than April. He hoped she wouldn't notice. "How's everything going with your youtube channel?" he asked, desperate for a quick change of subject.

"Oh god," April plopped down on the blanket. "I've been ignoring it. It's awful," she sighed loudly. "This semester is totally ruining me. I haven't been doing any local news stuff at all."

Donatello lowered himself onto the blanket beside April and crossed his legs beneath him. April had tucked her own legs beneath her, and he watched her hands sliding up and down from her knees to her ankles over her jeans repeatedly. It wasn't warm enough to be out at night. He should have picked another night, warmer, with a waning moon. He should have waited. _No_, he thought. _Now or never._ His gaze fell on her face, lingering on the constellations of freckles bursting over her cheeks. _Besides,_ he reasoned silently, glancing at the thermos of coffee he had brought for their starlit picnic. _Every problem has a solution_.

"Want some?" Donatello asked.

"Um," April blinked her big blue eyes. "What?"

"Coffee!" Don's eyes widened behind his glasses. "Coffee. Want some coffee?"

"Oh," April said, blankly, leaving Donatello wondering if he detected disappointment, or confusion in her voice. "Ah, thanks, but no thanks, Dee. If I drink any now I'll be up all night, and I've got an eight AM midterm tomorrow."

"Oh, right," Donatello froze, unscrewing the cap of the thermos. "Of course."

Disappointment rolled through him like a wave on the sand. What confidence he had, in himself, in his plan, in his ability to just _say it, _was dwindling rapidly. Doubt was seeping through every permeable layer of his self-esteem. April had been here less than five minutes and his plan was in shambles. Could you even call it a plan if nothing was going according to _plan_? His hands were getting clammy. Nothing had been going to plan since he scaled the roof and watched in abject horror as clouds rolled over the city skyline. Donatello had not accounted for all these variables. But he would be damned if he didn't keep trying.

_Now or never, _he told himself again, silently, stupidly, blindly, forcing himself to forge on.

His hand closed around the thermos cap and he turned it again, clockwise to open, to pour himself a cup of coffee with clammy hands. He had a feeling this was going to be a long night. The thermos was still warm in his shaking hands. The scent of coffee wafted up in steamy tendrils, and the corner of his mouth twitched into the beginning of a smile. _Liquid courage,_ he thought, wryly.

"Smells good though," April proffered the words like an apology.

"That's because it's the good stuff," Donatello inhaled deeply before screwing the thermos lid back on tight. Don sipped the coffee gingerly, holding the small thermos cup in one large green hand, watching April examine the telescope. "You got it?"

"It's a little more complicated than the junior scientist model Dad got me for my eighth birthday," April shrugged as she squinted, peering through the eyepiece, "but I'm sure I can figure it out."

Donatello stifled a small chuckle and continued to sip his hot coffee. "I don't doubt it."

They were so rarely alone.

Solitude was strange, in of itself. Donatello had always been one of four. What were they against the world - alone? And then April had come into their lives and changed everything, forever. And then came Casey, who wasted no time making their lives louder, messier, and increasingly complicated. Four became five. Five became six. And in the seven years since Donatello and April had met so little time had been spent alone, together. In her junior year of college, he had practically thrown himself (and his services as a tutor) at her when she offhandedly mentioned that Chem 101 was on her schedule for the fall. They had both been grateful in equal measure. April had been nervous; hadn't wanted a low grade to mar her GPA, not with grad school on the horizon. And she had only just broken up with Casey. The tutoring sessions had been a welcome distraction.

But even then, they had not been alone. Not really. Discussions on sig figs and memorizing metric prefixes alike were interrupted by Michelangelo's knocks - and the scent of hot chocolate wafting under the lab door. The creaking doorway had heralded Leonardo's curious blue eyes and gentle "_Just Checking In"s_ on more than one occasion. Raphael had even had to drag Casey's prying eyes away, more than once, after a particularly pungent sparring session in the dojo. April had never noticed; she had been too engrossed in her textbooks and flashcards, but Donatello had heard it all.

And every Wednesday night, after April had packed her bag and hugged Donatello goodbye, his brothers would ask - "_Did you tell her?"_

Donatello only ever shook his head. His reply was always the same - "_Too soon."_

It had been too soon, then. The wounds of her parting with Casey too new, too fresh. They had never talked about Casey. Only chemistry. And it had been enough.

But now, everything teetered on the precipice of change. And he had to tell her. No more excuses. Donatello knocked back what remained of his coffee. _Now or never_.

April adjusted the focuser, her face scrunching in concentration.

"See anything good?" Donatello asked.

"Lotsa fuzzies, but they're all so faint - "

Donatello's stomach dropped. He silently cursed himself for picking a night when the moon was waxing. _Waxing_, _dammit_, he thought, scathingly, cursing himself for his over eagerness. For a lifetime of bad timing. For his stupidity.

"But come on," April continued, smiling. "It's New York City. The light pollution's the worst," she shrugged. "Still," she murmured, her voice quieter. More wistful. "It's a beautiful night."

"Yeah," Donatello agreed, miserably.

"We'll have to take this up to Northampton sometime. We could see all sorts of deep-sky objects up there with a telescope this powerful."

Hope flared in Donatello then, warm and beautiful as the morning sun. He felt it pouring over every extremity, making his pebbly skin prickle against the night air again.

"That sounds sort of like a date," he said. Then swallowed, hard. He was almost able to say the words without choking on his own spit. Almost.

"Donnie," April turned to face him. There was still a smile on her lips, and Donatello could see the stars shining in the depths of her eyes. "We don't have to go to Northampton to go on a date, you know."

April's cheeks were flushed, though Donatello could not tell if it was the cold, or -

"I mean, that's what this is, isn't it?" she asked, eyes searching his face for the words he could not seem to say. "A date?"

Donatello caught a flash of yellow, the chipped polish on April's fingers, as she gestured to the the telescope, and the coffee, and the blanket they were sitting on together. It seemed so painfully obvious, laid before the two of them. A picnic under the stars. Alone. How could she not have known?

"I - " Donatello sputtered. _I wanted it to be_, he thought, desperately groping for the words that evaded him, cold and slick as ice.

"April," Donatello began, feeling like he did every time his brothers asked - _did you tell her? Too soon, too soon, _rang out like the siren inside him. They were supposed to sit on the blanket, old and faded and thin, but not too thin, and drink coffee, and gaze at the stars, and feel small, but not _too _small. And when the moment was right, when they were were marveling at how vast and finite everything was, and how big a part they had played in it all for such small things, he was going to tell her. It was part of the plan to tell her. He wanted to tell her, but not like this. It was still _too soon_.

"I would have said yes," April said gently. "If you'd asked."

"April," he said again, her words the only thing the trembling fire of hope inside him needed to flare anew. "I have something I need to tell you."

April looked up at him, and he saw something in her eyes that he had never seen before. She was looking at him the way she looked at Casey, that night, on Halloween. Like he was the only thing in the world that would ever matter; the beginning, and the end all at once. And in that moment, it did not matter that the light pollution was bad, or the moon was too bright, because he could see all the stars in the sky in her eyes. And they were as beautiful as she was.

Donatello reached for her, and his hand softly cupped her cheek. April murmured his name and he drew her closer. He closed his eyes. Felt her breath on his neck, hot in the cold night air. This was it.

"Don," she said his name again.

Donatello's eyes blinked open behind his glasses, and April's face came into focus.

"Look!" she was pointing at something.

He smiled. "I am," he said, softly, blind to everything in the world but her.

"Not at me!" she said, her voice louder, more urgent. "The sky!"

April grabbed his face with one hand, sm his cheeks as she jerked his neck around to see what she saw. When April let go, Donatello's mouth fell open, eyes wide behind his tortoise shell spectacles.

Something was blacking out the moon.

**A/N: **Thanks to theherocomplex for beta reading this chapter, and thank you for reading! I hope you're enjoying the ride so far.


	3. Chapter 3

"Hey look - " Michelangelo smiled. "The thing that ruined Donnie's date is on the news!"

"Talk about an epic fail," Raphael said, words punctuated by a mouthful of breakfast cereal.

"Please," Donatello knuckled an eye underneath his glasses. "Not before I've had coffee, Raphael."

His brother snorted. "Fat chance."

The small television in the kitchen was switched to Channel 6 morning news where Carlos Chiang O'Brien Gambe was holding a folio of papers that Donatello highly doubted actually had anything written on them, only serving as a prop to make it appear as though anyone on Channel 6 had a _clue_ what they were talking about. But still, Donatello's weary eyes lingered on the television screen, where an image of a blackened moon hung behind the reporter.

Ruined was a strong word. It was not the word Donatello would have chosen when describing his evening with April. But still. It had not yielded the results he was hoping for. Though to be fair, the plan had gone to hell long before an unidentified flying object had appeared in the sky and eclipsed the moon in darkness.

Donatello frowned.

"They're callin' it the Midnight Sun," Michelangelo set down his spatula and wiggled his fingers, as if it was supposed to be spooky. "Want some pancakes?"

"No thank you," Donatello dragged his feet across the kitchen floor, every step toward the coffee pot making his state of consciousness slightly more bearable.

"I'll have some!"

"You already got breakfast," Michelangelo flipped a pancake.

Raphael scraped the bottom of his cereal bowl. "Haven't you ever heard of second breakfast?"

"Uh, _duh_," Michelangelo rolled his big blue eyes. "But it's more like elevenses at this point. So you might wanna check yourself before you wreck yourself, Raph."

Obviously not in the mood to argue about hobbit meals, Raphael shoveled what was left of his cereal into his mouth. Donatello wasn't so much ignoring them as making his way with laser like precision to the cupboard full of coffee mugs.

"So Don, what is it?" Michelangelo asked, pouring a dinged up old measuring cup worth of batter into the pan. The batter sizzled on the hot metal and the sweet smell of pancakes filled Donatello's nostrils, making him salivate.

"I don't know and I don't _care,_" Donatello poured himself a cup of coffee, ambivalent to how petulant he sounded.

"Liar," grunted Raphael, idly scratching at his eyepatch.

Raphael was right, but Donatello would be damned if he affirmed that aloud. Instead, gently cradling his very full cup of coffee, he slid into an open chair at the table beside his brother. When his coffee was safely situated on the table, Donatello reached for the remote. Raphael slammed the butt of his spoon dangerously close to his outstretched fingers, and Donatello's tired eyes widened as he watched his cup of coffee wobble and pitch on the shaking table.

"Don't even think about it."

"I'm just going to turn up the volume, Raph," Donatello explained.

"Yeah, right."

Donatello would have rolled his eyes, but he could not justify expending any more energy on Raphael before he had at least half a cup of coffee. He thumbed the remote and Gambe's voice gradually grew louder amidst the chaos of the kitchen. " _\- what experts are calling the midnight sun."_

"Right," Donatello chuffed over the reporter. "Experts."

"_Was first sighted last night at nine thirty-six PM, EST."_

"Was that before or _after_ you tried to kiss April and ate it?" Raphael smirked, elbowing his brother from his chair.

Donatello's fingers curled around his coffee cup. "Shut. Up. Raph."

"Pancakes are done!"

Raphael shoved his chair out from under the table and it scraped across the kitchen tile. Donatello sipped at his coffee, considering grabbing a few ice cubes from the freezer to expedite the cooling process. Michelangelo' announced his arrival at the table with a clattering plate piled high with fluffy pancakes. Donatello irritably thumbed the remote again, ignoring the the sweet smell wafting across the table and increasing the volume.

"_Experts _-" Gambe began, loudly.

"What experts!?" Donatello tossed his hands up in frustration.

"_Are currently speculating that this phenomenon is being caused by some sort of eclipse."_

"What?" Donatello shouted, dismayed. "Anyone with functioning _eyeballs_ can see that is NOT an eclipse!"

"So what is it then, genius?" Raphael's pancake laden plate thumped on the table.

"Yeah," Michelangelo squeezed a bottle of syrup and an avalanche of gooey maple goodness careened over the pancake mountain on his plate. "Care to offer us your professional opinion?"

"An eclipse is an astronomical event wherein an astronomical object, in this case, the Earth's moon, is temporarily obscured," Donatello explained. "Lunar eclipses are caused by the Moon moving into the Earth's shadow, but the fact that the Moon is still obscured - "

"Thanks, Donniepedia," Raphael interrupted between mouthfuls of half-chewed pancake.

"I love Donniepedia. Learn somethin' new every day!" Michelangelo smiled. "Thanks, man."

"They have no idea what they're talking about," Donatello muted the television. "There's no way that's an eclipse. It's simply not possible."

"What's all the commotion?" came a calm voice.

Donatello glanced away from the television long enough to see Leonardo standing in the kitchen doorway. Leonardo stood, straight as an arrow, his skin dewy with sweat from morning katas. He was the only one who still did them daily. Beside Donatello, Michelangelo shrugged. "I dunno. Pancakes just sounded good, I guess."

"I wasn't talking about the pancakes," Leonardo smiled.

"Well, you can still have some if you want," Michelangelo said, mouth opening ever wider to accommodate a fork piled high with pancake.

Still smiling, Leonardo shook his head and pulled up a chair. "So - "

"Please Leo," Donatello said, flatly, still staring at the television screen. "Don't ask."

"Don't worry, Donnie, I'm sure you'll get another chance with April," Raphael shrugged his broad shoulders. "Assuming the world doesn't end."

Leonardo did not have to ask what Raphael meant. He only glanced toward Donatello, and followed his gaze to the television, where Channel 6 reported silently on the anomaly. As Leonardo gazed at the television the smile faded from his face. The news showed a live feed of the anomaly with the tagline "Midnight Sun". The words formed silently on Leonardo's lips.

It was just hanging there over the skyline, black and ominous. A stain on the otherwise perfectly blue sky that spring day.

"Do you know anything about this, Don?" Leonardo asked, his blue eyes icy.

Donatello shook his head. _But I'm going to find out, _he thought. He took a sip of coffee, and the slight, small, slurp was painfully loud in the silence that had settled over the turtles as they watched the muted news.

"What if it's - " Michelangelo paused, waiting for his brothers' attention. Leonardo and Donatello's stares broke away from the television, settling on Michelangelo. Raphael only rolled his remaining eye. Seemingly satisfied, Michelangelo set his fork down on his plate and raised his hands, palms out to his brothers.

He spread his fingers wide. "Aliens."

Silence.

"What?" Michelangelo shrugged defensively.

"You gotta be kiddin' me," Raphael crossed his arms over his cracked plastron.

Leonardo glanced at Donatello. Donatello chewed his lip pensively. What if it was?

"Come on, guys! Don't look at me like that," Michelangelo wined. "It's not like aliens would be the weirdest thing - "

"I don't think an alien craft is necessarily out of the question," Donatello shrugged. "It would have to be HUGE, though, guys. Like, really huge."

"Like micro planet huge?" Michelangelo asked, eyes wide. "Like Pluto?"

"Not that huge," Donatello answered, simply, gaze locked on the television screen. "And I believe it's dwarf planet, not micro planet."

Michelangelo sighed wistfully as he used his fork to steer a piece of pancake through the lake of syrup on his plate. "RIP Pluto - "

"Do you think it could be her?" Raphael interjected, the edge of his voice softened by hope. The light of the television screen glinted in his emerald green eye.

"It doesn't look Salamandrian to me. Not from what I can see, anyway," Donatello bit his lip, glancing back at the enormous black mass flickering ominously on the television screen.

"Kraang?" Leonardo's brow furrowed.

"I don't know," Donatello admitted. "I'll need to get a better look."

Donatello's belt began to vibrate.

"Wonder who that could be," Michelangelo waggled his brow ridges.

"Hey," said Donatello scrambling to press his t-phone to his face, feeling his cheeks go pink.

"_Hey_!"

"Hey April," Raphael said, smirking as he leaned into Donatello shoulder and closer to the t-phone.

Michelangelo waived from across the table. "Hi April!"

Leonardo nodded but said nothing. His gaze had drifted back to the television screen.

April's gentle laughter rang out from Donatello's t-phone speaker. "_Hi guys_."

"She says hi," Donatello grunted, shoving Raphael off.

Raphael raised his middle finger as he attempted to fold an entire pancake into his mouth in one bite. Donatello rolled his eyes.

"Wow, you're in rare form today," Donatello glared.

"W_hat_?"

"Nothing!" he backpedaled. "How did your midterm go?"

"_Have you seen what they're saying about the anomaly_?" April asked, her voice electric with excitement as she circumvented his question. But Donatello couldn't blame her – an astronomical anomaly was arguably _way_ more compelling than any test.

"Yeah," the news cut to an ad and Donatello frowned. "We're watching Channel 6 now."

"_They have no idea what they're talking about_."

"Right? They're calling it the Midnight Sun," Donatello scoffed, pulling his chair out from the table. "One sec."

Donatello positioned his phone between his ear and his neck and took up his coffee. He slid his chair back under the table to a chorus of protests from his brothers, which he ignored, and continued walking. He padded out of the kitchen and through the living area, and past Raphael's pinball machine. Though he did not look back, he could feel his brothers' eyes on his shell from the kitchen table.

"Okay, sorry, maybe more like, _sixty_ seconds," he smiled lopsidedly once he was alone in the hall.

"_No worries_," April said over a chorus of other voices. "_Oops, sorry_, _excuse me,"_ she said.

Donatello surmised that she was still on campus and took a sip of coffee that turned into a slurp. He cringed, thinking about slurping in April's ear. Maybe she missed it in the cacophony of campus. "Hey, uh," Donatello said, reflexively moving to rub the back of his neck and almost dropping his t-phone. "About last night - "

"_Yeah, I've been thinking about that,_" April paused, and Donatello's breath caught in his throat. "_You wanna pick up where we left off? Tonight_?"

"April - " Donatello began, a smile breaking over his face like the morning sun.

"_At the observatory_?"

"Aprillll," Donatello drawled out her name as he backed into his lab, opening the door by bumping it with his shell.

He slipped into the lab, where the telescope lay on his worktable. Donatello hadn't gotten a chance to use it the night before. Not really.

The night before Donatello had barely been squinting through the telescope for ten seconds before April yanked him back by the carapace. Shit was getting weird, and they had been exposed. It had been futile anyhow. The moon had been too bright, the glare too loud. He hadn't been able to make anything out, other than what they could see with their eyes alone; an enormous black mass, blotting out the moon. He needed something more powerful. Too bad there weren't any industrial grade telescopes just lying around the neighborhood, waiting to be dumpster dived. But the fourteen inch Meade Schmidt-Cassegrain at the observatory might just do the trick.

The portable telescopes the observatory rolled out for their public outreach programs would probably do just fine, Donatello reasoned. Sidewalk Astronomy, they called it. Donatello had read about it on their website. He had stumbled across them one summer night in Harlem, telescopes pointed skyward at the corner of 125th and Adam Clayton Powell Boulevard. He had paused on that rooftop, stillness settling over him heavy as the summer heat, as he watched the crowd clustering around those telescopes; utterly in awe of the universe, and oblivious to everything around them, all at once. Oblivious to him, crouched on the ledge of that roof, watching. Wishing -

"_Come on,_" April insisted. "_It'll be fun_."

Donatello shook his head and kicked the door shut behind him. "Leo will never go for it," he set his coffee down on his work table, beside the telescope.

"_Who says he's invited_?"

"Ms. O'Neil," Donatello smiled slyly. "This is sounding more reckless by the minute."

"_That's half the fun_."

He imagined her shrugging, and smiling, and as Donatello felt his knees turn to goo, he was immensely grateful to be sitting at his workbench. "I don't think that's a good idea," he sighed.

He hated saying no to April, but Leonardo would have a coronary. And that was if they didn't get caught. The NYU campus was crawling with security guards, which would be easy enough to avoid, but their security system around the observatory - that Donatello would have to disable. And that would take time. But if April wanted to hit it that night - Donatello rubbed his eyes under his glasses. _Is that even possible? _He wondered. The turtle groped around his work table for a pad and a pencil.

"How are you accessing the lab?" he put the pencil to paper, scratching out a flow chart for hacking a world class university's security system in less than eight hours.

"_Adhita's gonna sneak me in tonight after the lab closes," _April replied with a nonchalance of a person with the freedom to come and go as they pleased without the constant looming fear of being discovered, incarcerated and inevitably vivisected.

"April!" Donatello hissed in disbelief, dropping his pencil.

"_Come on!_" April pleaded. Donatello's pencil rolled off his work table and onto the floor. "_We can both get a better look at the anomaly. You'll get more info, and __**I'll **__get some great footage for my channel_."

"What if you get expelled?" Donatello wheezed, squinting as he surveyed the floor for his missing pencil.

"_I won't get expelled, Hermione_."

"Who?" Donatello snatched his pencil up off the floor.

"_Never mind_."

"And I'm sure the faculty is already using that telescope to study the anomaly," Donatello said, almost cringing at how sensible he sounded.

"_But who knows if any of that information will actually get out?_" April argued. "_And don't __**you**_ _want to know what it is_?"

"Mikey thinks it's aliens," Donatello went back to his flow chart, scratching out a timetable.

"_If that's the case the world's really never gonna know_," April pouted.

Donatello understood, he did. If there was a time for independent media coverage, it was now. Who knew what sort of government cover up agenda the mainstream corporate media was beholden to. His tongue crept out of the side of his mouth as he scratched away at his diagram. Then he cocked his head to the side, and made a small sound of consideration. He could totally do this in eight hours.

"_Don't you wanna know_?" she repeated.

Of course he did! Donatello pinched the bridge of his snout in frustration. It was all he could think about last night, as April had hurriedly strapped the telescope to his shell. Well, almost all he could think about. As April's fleeting fingers tugged at the leather strap over his shell, gently brushing his scutes, he had felt an electric sensation spreading over his shell. But there had been no time for that. With something so obviously wrong, they had to go to ground. Or he did, anyhow. And April had returned to her apartment, but he had beaten her home. It was good to know there were _some_ advantages of having to travel by sewer.

She had texted him when she had locked her apartment door behind her. And Mikey had heard the alert, which was how Raphael had come to know about – _what did he call it? _Donatello wondered. _Oh. Right. _He frowned. _My epic fail._

And as he had laid awake, staring at the ceiling, he could not close his eyes without seeing the black mass, marring the face of the moon. What was it? Donatello had racked his brain, forcing his eyes open, forcing himself to stay awake. To _think_. What could it be? An eclipse? Some sort of syzygy? Donatello assured himself that if he had not been so exhausted, and emotionally overtaxed, he would have thought of the extraterrestrial possibility sooner. He told himself Michelangelo had only beaten him to it because he hadn't had his coffee yet.

"Of course I want to know!" Donatello went to rub the back of his neck and nearly threw his t-phone over his shoulder. "That's why it's you're having such an easy time getting me to even _consider_ agreeing to this insanity."

"_Aw, come on, give yourself some credit_," April said. "_You're putting up a decent fight_."

"Yeah?" a small smile tugged at the edges of his mouth.

"_Yeah_," April said, and there was so much feeling in that one small word that Donatello's heartbeat quickened. "_I mean, as far as Leo's concerned, I basically browbeat you into this_."

"Is that so?" Donatello asked, underscoring the final steps on his flowchart with his pencil.

"_Totally_."

"So is this," he paused, the words he could almost bring himself to say dangling in front of him, spinning wildly on a thread – he only had to reach out and grab them. "Is this a date?"

"_You, me? Alone? At night? Walking the fine line between danger and subterfuge and discovery? I dunno, Don -_ "

Donatello imagined her giving him that confident wink, and it made his knees liquify all over again.

"_Are you actually going to kiss me this time_?"

A strangled noise escaped Donatello's mouth. And he thought, in his shame, in the gripping, nauseating embarrassment that followed, that she might laugh at him. But instead, all that followed was silence as April hung on the line, waiting for his response.

Donatello cleared his throat. "Sounds like a date."

"_Great!_" April's voice burst over the t-phone speaker.

He could practically hear the smile lighting up her voice. And he could not help but smile, too. Donatello tapped the nub of his eraser on the notepad in front of him. "Hmmm," he murmured.

"_What?"_

"Adhita wouldn't happen to be planning on giving you her keycard, would she?"

**A/N: **_Few things delight me more than writing cranky dorky for reading and for all the encouraging comments!_


	4. Chapter 4

April leaned against the cool metal of the dome, phone in hand to illuminate a crumpled up post-it note in the other. Adhita's instructions, scratched out with a dying ballpoint pen, were curt. But they were enough. She ran her thumb over the last line, scrawled out so hard it left grooves in the bright yellow paper – DON'T GET CAUGHT. April swallowed, crumpling the post-it up and into the pocket of her jeans.

She glanced at the telescope in the center of the room, dwarfed by the vastness of the dome, and let her eyes drift upward to the stars. Adhita had made good on her promise to leave the telescope on and dome open before she left the observatory. Now Donatello just had to pull through and keep the CCTV system down.

She chewed her lip. Where is he? She tugged at the drawstring on her hoodie, hoping it had been enough to keep her face off the security feeds. But that would only matter if Don hadn't pulled it off – and Don always pulled it off. A small smile spread across her face, and she pocketed her phone. Don was going to pull this off. They were going to pull this off.

The dome was open to the night sky where the stars shone over New York City, but the moon was nothing but black. She held the strings of her hoodie just a bit tighter, pulling them just a bit harder, drawing her hood around her face, and her neck, where her skin prickled at the cold, and something else she could not quite place. Something she did not know, hanging above them. Over them. Waiting.

Waiting to be discovered, she silently told herself, trying to muster a confidence that had almost blown away on the night wind. She shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her jeans, and her fingers closed around Adhita's note. Where is he?

Clammy hands groped at the phone in her back pocket, and she fumbled with it. She nearly dropped it, trying to check the time.

"Shit!" she swore as she pitched forward, catching the smartphone before it fell to the floor.

And then, she saw him, and her heart sighed. She was no longer alone. Donatello's shadow flashed through the opening of the dome, his silhouette darkening where the observatory met the sky just for a moment before he swung himself inside. April smiled, watching him. He descended with a silent grace that still surprised her, after all these years.

Donatello landed before her without so making so much as an echo.

"Hey," he smiled.

"Hey," April smiled back, looking up at him. Had he always been so tall? Her smile nearly turned to a smirk. Maybe he was just standing a little straighter. Either way, he looked good. She tilted her head to the side. "What took you so long?"

"Ran into some security," Donatello shrugged. "Just rent-a-cops. No biggie."

"Did they see you?" April asked, her voice edged with worry.

"Nope!" Donatello grinned. "And neither did the CCTVs."

So. Donatello's plan had worked. April shook her head, but she could not help but smile. Of course it had worked. It was Don. Even if it hadn't, he would have found a way to her.

He always did.

"Come on," April nodded towards the telescope. "Someone's gonna notice the observatory's still open eventually."

Donatello snorted. "Not the rent-a-cops."

April only shook her head as she walked away, not waiting for Donatello; silently hoping that he might linger behind her, just for a moment, to catch a glimpse of the swing of her hips in her jeans. She reached the telescope and paused. Her hand instinctively went for the crumpled up post-it note in her pocket, until she remembered the words written largest, scrawled hardest and deepest on it: DON'T GET CAUGHT. They had no time to hesitate.

She was about to lean into the viewfinder, when Donatello silently joined her. She glanced over her shoulder and watched as he reached for his utility belt, producing something approximately the size and shape of a thumb drive. April arched a brow.

"This should record anything the telescope "sees"," he grinned his sweet gap-toothed grin as he made airquotes with his three fingered hands.

And April could not help but smile, too. "Thank you," she began, but Donatello was already distracted by his search for a port for his device.

When Donatello had found his prize, and the drive clicked into place, April leaned to peer through the telescope. Her breath caught in her chest. If Donatello's dumpster dived telescope was better than the junior scientist model of her childhood, this telescope was light years better. On her approach, the telescope had seemed so small in comparison to the enormous dome that housed it, but peering through it, it was clear that its size only belied its strength.

She felt him beside her, before she heard him. "What do you see?" he asked.

"Everything." She uttered the word like a prayer, watching the universe unfold before her through a fourteen inch aperture.

And there it was. The moon still hung blackened in the sky. Though - April inhaled sharply. The silver glow of the celestial body shone brighter than it had before.

"What?" Donatello probed.

"The moon - " April began. "It moved. Or we moved. The Earth moved. But the anomaly hasn't. Look!"

They switched positions, and Donatello peered through the viewer, making that low sound he made when he was mulling something over. "If it's stationary it's highly unlikely that the anomaly is an astronomical object. Maybe it really is -"

"Aliens?" April whispered.

"Aliens," Donatello affirmed joylessly, though April suspected this was not because of the prospect of extraterrestrials itself, but that Michelangelo had beaten him to what was now such an obvious conclusion.

"Can you make anything out?" she asked, leaning in close.

"Yeah," Donatello trailed off, getting lost in the possibility of what was about to come. "But if I just, adjust -"

April leaned in, closer, as if being closer would somehow enable to her to see what Donatello was seeing. Or maybe it was just an excuse to be closer to him. Her eyes followed the slope of his shoulder, the taut muscles of his arms, stiffening with tension and excitement, as they teetered on the brink of the unknown. If it was just an excuse to be closer to him, she was thankful for it. Something unspoken and electric grew between them, like a magnetic field pushing her back and drawing her simultaneously. So she leaned in, closer. And when her arm grazed his -

"Hello," Donatello said, his tone deadcenter in a venn diagram of surprise, hesitation and excitement.

"Hi," she replied, cooly.

He swallowed, and asked if she wanted to take a look. She nodded, then realized he was not looking at her, but the anomaly, and she said yes. As they switched positions, her hand grazing his as he explained the adjustments he had made, she felt that electricity surge up between them again. Her breath caught in her chest, and she almost forgot what it was that she was going to say next.

You are being so ridiculous right now, April silently scolded herself. It's not like you two have never been in close quarters before. It wasn't as if they hadn't spent a hundred nights sitting next to one another on the couch in the lair, eating pizza and reading his and hers news publications. It wasn't as if they hadn't been backed up against a wall, fighting the clock, and whatever else the night threw at them to stay alive before. It wasn't as if she had never touched him, before. But everything felt different now, somehow. Now that they had said the words aloud. She brushed her hair behind her ear, out of her eyes, and forced herself to focus. They didn't have much time. So she opened her eyes to the universe - but all she could see was the anomaly.

Even through the telescope the anomaly was still amorphous in shape. Big, and black, and ominous; still drowning out the moon. But the telescope's lens revealed jagged, craggy edges, jutting out of space like an angry mountains, too steep to ever be tamed. She scanned the surface, a vast, black expanse of nothingness; no lights, no dwellings, no hull, no cockpit, no nothing. It was huge. April's stomach lurched as the excitement passed, and fear began to creep in. What was it? And then, something happened. Something at the edge of the blackness cracked.

April gasped.

"What?" Donatello urged, reaching for her hand.

"It changed! It - it glichted!" April reeled around, too excited to notice Donatello's touch. She threw her hands up, wildly gesticulating at the telescope. "It cracked. Like a digital billboard with broken pixels - "

She stepped aside and Donatello swung in, peering out and up. He paused, and in the silence, April could hear her heartbeat thundering in her ears. She watched, and waited, and when Donatello stopped chewing his lip, he said, "What if it's - "

"A cloaking device," they said, in unison.

"A malfunctioning cloaking device." Donatello added, but did not break away from the telescope.

April drew a hand to her lips, as if to silence herself; as if she was about to speak some horrible secret aloud. "That's why it's pixelating."

But who knew how much longer any of this would be a secret.

"Don," she said his name aloud, trying to drown out the silence of the deepening pit of dread slowly growing inside her. "We should go."

He pulled back from the telescope and straightened himself to stand at his full height. April felt herself stiffen, acutely aware of how close they were. Donatello only nodded before turning back to the telescope and yanking his device free. Her shoulders slumped in relief, for the brief reprieve she felt with his back turned to her, knowing that his eyes were on anything but her. Because when they were, she didn't know what to do.

"Ready when you are," he said, offering the device to her.

April hesitated. Taking it meant touching him. And she wanted to touch him. But -

Something clanged outside the dome.

"Did you hear that?" she asked, her voice hushed.

Donatello nodded, taking a defensive step back.

"Shit," she hissed. "Someone must have noticed that the dome was open."

"No big deal," Donatello said, quietly, pocketing the device in his utility belt. "Observatories are open at night all the time." Then he shrugged. "Pretty much only at night, actually."

"But - " April's protest was cut short by a rap on the door.

"You got this!" Donatello smiled at her. "Just. Wait. How does that phrase go? " the turtle paused. "Fake it til you make it?"

Another knock came, louder this time, and April groped at her pockets. Damnit Donatello, she thought, turning on her heel towards the sound. They did not knock again. Instead, they opened the door. She glanced back over her shoulder, but Donatello was gone. "Shit."

"Hello?" came an unfamiliar voice, followed by the sharp click of a flashlight being switched off.

"Hey!" April cleared her throat. "Uh, hi there. Hello." She shoved her hands deep into her pockets.

A tall but lanky man in a uniform emerged from the doorway, stony faced. "Do you clearance to access this facility, ma'am?"

"Y-yes," April tried to swallow through a dry mouth.

The guard gave her a measuring glance, clearly unconvinced. Or expecting some sort of lab coat with coke bottle glasses, working after hours. April's heart screamed in her chest. She could hear it, above all else; feel it, crawling up her throat, trying to escape, to flee, to keep them from getting caught. Where the fuck was Donatello? She glanced nervously around the dome to no avail.

"Ma'am?'" the guard asked, advancing on her.

April's mouth was a thin line across her face. Ma'am? Really? She thought. Do I really look like a ma'am? I'm only twenty-three. Miss would be perfectly acceptable way to -

"Ma'am?'" the guard pressed, harder this time. His hand was dangerously close to the radio on his belt.

"Yes, of course," April choked, drawing Adhita's keycard from her pocket, making sure to keep her thumb over the small, fuzzy photo of her friend's face. She held the keycard up for him to see, not moving her thumb. "Class C access, sir."

A large C was emblazoned in orange on the front of the keycard. Right next to the Adhita's photo. April tried to steady her hand. Tried not to shake.

"Class C?" the guard frowned, but his hand drifted away from the radio, back to his side. "You really shouldn't be here this late."

April pocketed the keycard. Using every ounce of willpower not to liquify right in front of campus security, she exhaled. "I know, I know, it's just his anomaly -" she craned her neck upward, to the sliver of night sky shining through the dome. "Fascinating, isn't it?" she asked, nothing but sincerity in her voice.

"I think it'd be best if you lock up, ma'am."

April nodded meekly, too busy forcing her knees not to shake to notice he was calling her ma'am again. It didn't matter. The guard had bought it.

"Of course," she agreed, nodding sheepishly. "Time to call it a night."

The guard turned to the door, giving April an incredulous glare. Shit, she felt the color drain from her face, but forced herself to smile and wiggle her fingers goodbye at him anyhow. He frowned again, but closed the door behind him. When the latch clicked, April slumped over.

"Fuck," she swore aloud in relief, half expecting a bemused chuckle to ring out from somewhere she could not see in the dome. But none came.

April's heart sank. A clammy hand closed around wrinkled paper in her pocket, and she gently pulled it free to read Adhita's words one more time. DON'T GET CAUGHT. She snorted and rolled her eyes. But she followed the rest of the instructions without fail.

When the observatory dome was closed, and the door locked itself shut behind her, April exhaled a sigh of relief and slumped against the bricks. Her warm breath clouded before her lips in the cold night air. She crossed her arms over her chest against the cold, but felt no warmer. She scanned the rooftops, but he was nowhere to be seen. Stupid ninja vanish, she thought, her sigh of relief curdling into a small sound of disappointment.

She shoved her hands into her hoodie pockets and hit the stairs. Her sneakers slapped across the concrete and the night wind swept over her face, making her hair dance around the edge of her hoodie. At least their excursion hadn't been a total wash, she thought, shrugging her hoodie up around her shoulders against the night. They had footage of the anomaly, now. Evidence. Of what, she still did not know. But they would find out. A wry grin spread across her face, imagining how Michelangelo was going to light up when he found out he was right. Aliens. She almost splayed her hands out before her like that ridiculous man on the History Channel Mikey was so fond of, but decided against it on account of the cold.

Aliens, she thought. She wondered how long it would be until the "experts" figured that one out. Sometime after they had narrowed it down to at least two potential extraterrestrial species, but before the turtles managed to make contact, she suspected. Aliens, she rolled the thought over in her mind like the waves caressing the sand, breaking each granule down into something smaller and smaller with each touch as she examined the possibilities. But which ones? Salamandrians? She smiled sadly. That would make Raphael happy. Or maybe Triceratons? Then they'd really be in deep shit. Or the Kraang? She glanced to the sky, where the anomaly hung, utterly still, while the rest of the world reeled imperceptibly around it. Or something else? She felt that cold feeling creeping in again, filling all the places where wonder once dwelled with something cold, like winter's first frost settling over a field.

But whatever it was, the world would know. April frowned, resolute. She would make sure of that. She and Don had footage now. Footage not only of the anomaly, but the anomaly glitching. She smirked. Eclipses didn't glitch. No way.

Her sneaker hit the next step and she felt a creeping sense that something, or someone was behind her. She turned, and there he was.

"Ho-lee crap!" she shouted, nearly falling backwards down the stairs.

Donatello's arm was around her waist in a second. Her chest rose and fell with rapid breath, quickening at his touch. She looked up at him and attempted a scowl.

"Don!" she scolded. "Someone could see you!"

"We've still got at least five minutes on my CCTV shut down," Donatello replied, unfazed. "I could check my watch to confirm, but that would entail putting you down."

"Don't!" April blurted, blinking back up at him. "Please don't," she made her addendum with a small smile.

He smiled back at her, and she fought the feeling of falling, even though he held her steady. Her lips parted to speak, but she had forgotten what she was going to say.

Perhaps that was because there was nothing left to say.

Donatello bent down, and April craned her neck upward. Her hoodie fell away, exposing her neck and shoulders to the cold the night brought with it, but it hardly mattered. When his warm breath found her neck, there was nothing else; only him. Not the cold, not the night and all its uncertainty. Just him. And her. With nothing else to say.

He kissed her, and the whole world fell away.

Their lips parted and she opened her eyes. "Finally," she said, a grin spreading across her face that she was powerless to stop.

Donatello drew her up in his arms, allowing her to right herself on the stairs. "Finally," he agreed. He held her, his broad green arms wrapped around her waist, just for a moment. "So," he cleared his throat. April watched as his cheeks became tinged with pink.

"Did this meet all your criteria for a date?" he asked, timorously.

April only continued to smile. "Such as?"

"What was it you said?" he asked, drawing her in closer. "Danger and subterfuge and discovery?"

"And kissing," April held out a single finger, for emphasis.

"And kissing," Donatello concurred, his voice low and slow as he leaned in closer.

April closed her eyes again, waiting for her smile to melt into another kiss, and didn't even see the security guard rounding the corner.


	5. Chapter 5

"Don?" April called, her voice echoing down the lonely tunnel.

Her sneaker found the last rung of the service ladder, and she jumped. She did not look before she leapt. She just jumped. Straight into a puddle. She sighed, making a half-hearted attempt to sidestep anything else that might lead to her being up to her knees in fresh sewage. She turned, her wet sneakers sucking at her feet, and peered down into the sewer. A dim light flickered in the dark.

She felt her heartbeat accelerate. Where was he? She glanced over her shoulder, down the tunnel in the opposite direction, where no light shone. April reached for her back pocket, where her t-phone rested, ever ready. This was the spot, wasn't it? She glanced down the tunnel. It had been years, and while she had always been impressed with the turtles' intimate knowledge of the warren of tunnels below the city. If she was being honest, they all sort of looked the same to her. But this had to be it. The evac rendezvous spot; close enough to the lair but not _too _close.

She rubbed her shoulders against the creeping cold, gaining little ground with her wet clothes. The sewer offered more cover than the streets, but not much more warmth. She shuddered, and felt the rippling pinprick sensation of goosebumps spreading across her skin, even under her hoodie. April exhaled sharply and rubbed her arms harder, mentally thanking past April for leaving a change of clothes at the lair.

The manhole at the top of the service ladder rattled above her and she stepped the side, out of view. She ran her hands over her hoodie sleeves again, desperately hoping the friction would make enough heat to make a difference. She closed her eyes and indulged in a fantasy of warm, _dry_, pajamas, and curling up on the couch next to Don. She could probably even stay the night. She doubted she would even need to ask.

April paused at the thought, blinking in the darkness. Would that be weird?

Was it weird now? Now that they were -

Something splashed out of sight and she backed up against the tunnel wall.

"_Donatello_?" she called, her shaking voice echoing down the length of the bore into the earth, disappearing into nothing.

"Hey," Donatello said down the length of the tunnel, his voice oozing with misery.

"Hey," April replied, rushing through the puddle at her feet to find him in the dark.

"You okay?" he asked, unable to mask his concern.

"Fine," she shrugged. "Wet."

"Did they – "

She shook her head. "I bolted before he could question me."

"Good," Donatello nodded, seemingly relieved.

"Are you alright?" she asked, though as her eyes searched his face, even in the low light, she already knew the answer.

"I'll be fine."

April's face creased in concern. The security guard had pulled out his phone when he had found them on the stairs. But it was dark, and Donatello had moved fast. But maybe not fast enough. There was no way to know. Unless...she chewed her lip, trying not to think about it. Donatello pulled a small scrap of fabric from a pouch on his belt and proceeded to clean his glasses. Or attempt to clean his glasses. April frowned. The rag was wet, and only smearing the smudge around the lenses, but Donatello seemed too miserable to notice.

"Here," April offered, gently. "Let me."

She gently took his glasses from his hands, breathing onto the lenses. They fogged in her hands, and she rubbed them with the edge of her hoodie (the only thing that hadn't seemed to have gotten wet on her descent into the sewer). When she was done, she folded the arms up and offered them back to him.

"Thanks," Donatello slid his spectacles back on. The small smile that had found its way to his face vanished. "I just can't believe I let that rent-a-cop see me. What if - what if he photographed me?"

"Don't worry about it," April reached for his hand, her small fingers entwining with his. "It's gonna be fine."

Donatello nodded, though something in the way his mouth waivered told April he was unconvinced.

She tried to smile reassuringly. "Come on."

Putting one foot in front of the other they began to trudge home. April's wet sneakers sucked at what felt like even wetter socks with each step, the heels rubbing her skin in just the wrong way. She wondered if she still had those crocks back at the lair. Anything would be preferable to her current footwear situation at this point. Just as she was about to shove her hands into her hoodie pockets, she felt something graze her wrist.

She looked up to see Donatello smiling nervously, his hand drifting by her side. She smiled at him again, and her hand found his. Five fingers easily intertwined with three, as if they had been doing this forever. It didn't feel like the first time; it felt like the culmination of a lifetime of waiting.

Each soggy step faded into the next, until Donatello stopped.

The door to the lair had never felt less inviting. Don stood before it, caught between stillness and action. This door had welcomed them home a thousand times. Unless they were under siege, it was never locked. All Donatello had to do was turn the handle, and they would be home.

April squeezed his hand.

"It's gonna be fine," she said again.

He nodded, took a deep breath, and pushed the door open. They entered the lair together, hand in hand.

April tread softly, trying not to give away their position with the squelching of her wet sneakers. Donatello padded along silently beside her. Though he stood tall, she felt his fingers tighten around hers. _Don't worry_, she thought_, I'm not letting go_. She glanced up at him, but his eyes were trained on the den where turtles were all seated together on the couch, illuminated by the soft glow of the television screen in the low light. Leonardo sat apart from his brothers, eyes intent on whatever it was they were watching. Michelangelo's legs were kicked up on the coffee table next to an empty pizza box. Raphael's toned arms, muscles well defined even in repose, were spread across the cushions. Donatello took another step, and April followed.

When her sneaker hit the floor it made a sound like she was giving a wet whoopie cushion a half-hearted squeeze. They froze. Raphael craned his neck over his shoulder and looked the two of them up and down with his one good eye.

"Nice," he said with a smirk.

A smile tugged at the edge of Donatello's mouth.

"See, I told you- " April began, but the rest of the words dissolved in as she watched the expression on Donatello's face.

"Oh - " he groaned.

The volume on the television shot up. She opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, but Donatello only pointed across the room. April felt the color drain from her face when she saw what the turtles were watching.

"Oh this is so not fine," Donatello wheezed.

Raphael snorted. "You can say that again."

Michelangelo turned around and draped himself over the back of the couch. "_Busted!_"

Leonardo glanced over his shoulder, glaring as sharply as the kunai at his belt. "Explain," he glowered.

"It was all my fault!" April blurted, stepping in front of Donatello, as if anything she could say or do would protect him now. "I - "

"April, I know you mean well, but," Leonardo began.

"It was my fault," Donatello confessed, numbly, his eyes glued to the television, where a blurry full-body shot of him was plastered to the screen. "I was stupid. I exposed myself. It's all my fault."

"What was that?" Raphael asked, cupping his hand to where his ear might be if he had any.

"I exposed myself," Donatello admitted.

"You've exposed all of us!" Leonardo raised his voice as he stood.

"Oh, no. No, no, no," Raphael chortled. "The other part. Before that."

Donatello rung his fists at his side. "I was stupid."

Raphael cackled from the couch.

"Raphael!" Leonardo snapped. "This is _not_ funny."

Raphael snorted again and turned the television up by thumbing the remote. Gambe's voice poured out over the blurry cell phone pic of Donatello. April watched as he wilted beside her. Though none of his features were distinguishable due to the poor lighting and phone camera quality, it was definitely Donatello.

"_Local security captured this photo of this unidentified organism earlier this evening, and experts are postulating - "_

"What _experts_!?" Donatello seethed, and April sighed.

"_That it may be extraterrestrial in origin,"_ Gambe continued. "_Could this mysterious being be related to the Midnight Sun?"_ He paused, and the news feed cut to Gambe pensively shuffling a folio of papers at his desk. "_It's too soon to tell." _

"HA!" Michelangelo's head flopped back over the couch. "They think you're an alien."

"_New York City is full of urban legends; rats the size of grown men, __**alligators**_ _in the sewers, but can aliens really be among us?"_ Game queried, raising a brow.

"If only they knew," April whispered, stepping closer to Donatello.

"Knew _what?_" Leonardo demanded. He had made his way around the couch and stood, arms crossed over his plastron, waiting for an answer.

"The anomaly is totally aliens," April turned her gaze Leonardo's imposing figure, defiantly taking Donatello's hand in hers. "Donatello confirmed it with me at the university observatory tonight. At _my_ invitation. This was all my fault."

"Aliens!" Michelangelo crowed, raising his arms triumphantly as if someone had just scored a touchdown. "I knew it."

Leonardo's icy gaze shifted to his brother. "Is that true, Donatello?"

"Yes," Don pushed his glasses back up his snout. "I do believe the anomaly is extraterrestrial in origin. But April is not at fault for my being seen."

"It doesn't matter!" Leonardo snapped. "You were seen! By a rent-a-cop, no less!"

"I know," Donatello groaned.

"A RENT-A-COP!" Leonardo fumed. "You're a ninja, Donatello. A _ninja_."

"I know," Donatello hung his head shamefully.

"Sensei trained you better than this," Leonardo added, and April watched as the words twist inside Donatello, sharp as a knife.

"You don't have to pull the dead dad card on me, Leo. I know!" Donatello shouted. He sighed dismally. "I know."

"Don," April said, softly, gently squeezing his hand.

Donatello's attempt at a deep breath turned into a miserable sigh. But then he squeezed her hand, and a small smile broke across his face. April felt heat rushing to her cheeks. "Come on, April," he said. "Let's get you out of those wet clothes."

"_Wow!_" Raphael exclaimed from the couch, his head lolling back over the couch cushions. "Making up for lost time there, Don?"

April and Donatello both blushed. "That's not – " Donatello groaned, turning away from his brothers and back to April. "That's not what I meant," he whispered hastily, his cheeks flushing pink.

"I know," April murmured, her thumb gently running over his. _Not gonna lie,_ she thought, _that would be way more fun than the Spanish Inquisition over here_… she forced herself to stifle a smile as her eyes darted away from Leo, avoiding his gaze.

Donatello took her hand and she felt her heart skip in her chest under every damp layer of clothing. She almost bit her lip, cold and chapped from the night wind, but thought better of it. She didn't want Don to know how nervous she was. She didn't want _them _to know. Or breakfast tomorrow would be brutal. She brushed a clump of wind-matted hair hanging in front of her eyes behind her ear, and took the next step, her wet sneakers sucking at her feet again. One foot in front of the other, she told herself silently, her sneakers squeaking so loudly it almost felt obscene.

"We're not done," Leonardo said, flatly.

Her wet sneakers wheezed as she stopped dead in her tracks. Leonardo had spent years mastering his paternal tone, on away missions, at home, acting as the voice of reason, and in recent years, providing guidance Splinter no longer could. April frowned. And tonight, he had finally perfected it, in all its self-righteous glory. _Of course_. She nearly rolled her eyes.

April could not recall a time when her own father had even spoken to her this way. He had always seemed to trust her, even when he shouldn't have. But she never came home dead, so it had all worked out alright, hadn't it? She shifted her weight uneasily under Leonardo's harsh gaze. He was laying it on thick, tonight. Splinter had been more of a parent to her than her own father ever had, in some ways. Kirby had drifted away, after her mother disappeared. As long as she had gotten good grades and ended up in her own bed before dawn, it had all been groovy. But after they lost Splinter, too... her heart sunk thinking about it. She knew Leonardo had taken that the hardest. But no one had given Leonardo that burden to carry but himself.

And he carried the burden remarkably. He always had. Even as a boy, thrust into the mantle of leadership at only fifteen, he had persevered. But now, there was something else under the surface of his deep blue eyes. Leonardo wore the burden like a mask, as plain as the blue bandana across his brow, but it did nothing to hide the shame and the guilt of that night. Even in the storm of her fury at Leo's self-righteous assholery, April's heart ached for him. He bore that burden like Sisyphus. It hadn't been his fault; but the only one that didn't seem to know that was Leonardo.

"You two are very sweet and all," Leonardo's eyes narrowed at them. "But I cannot have this distraction endangering our family."

"That's a little hypocritical, don't you think, Leonardo?" Donatello asked, somberly.

April squeezed Don's hand so hard her nails bit into his flesh. _Don't go there, Don_, she pleaded silently. _Please_.

"Since _your_ last distraction ended with a hole in Raphael's face!"

April's stomach lurched. They did not talk about that night. They did not talk about what had happened to Raphael. And most importantly, they did not talk about her. She was gone. April's eyes widened, watching Leonardo attempting to compose himself. Donatello had broken the unspoken agreement they had all adhered to for years in his anger, red hot and furious, at himself, at Leonardo - at the entire world for rejecting them, after everything they had done. April's heart was heavy in her chest. The world would never know, but she knew. They all did.

"Do _not_ bring her into this, Donatello," Leonardo said, coldly.

Her fingers tightened around his, thinking about that night. The night just another battle with the Foot had turned into a tragedy. She remembered how the fray had frozen all around them. How cold those eyes were as she had forced Leonardo's hand. Donatello's skin was hot against hers, just like the iron of her tessen was in her hands that night. April closed her eyes, trying to shut it all out. The sound of Raphael's screams. The sound of Leonardo's ragged breath as he watched. The ghosts that were little more than echoes, now.

"I think the eyepatch is a good look on you, bro," Michelangelo said, simply. "Very swarthy."

"Not now, Michelangelo," Raphael growled.

"What's done is done," Leonardo finished, eyes icy cool.

She could feel the retort at the tip of Donatello's tongue, hot and eager and ready to lash out at his brother; ready to rip that old wound open even wider. She watched Don's mouth twitch into the first syllable of her name. But he stopped himself.

"Come on, Leo," Michelangelo nervously changed the subject from the couch. "It's not like they know what we actually are."

"It doesn't matter," Donatello muttered, as his eyes said what he could not. _I was stupid_. "It won't happen again."

"No. It won't," Leonardo said, flatly. "Because none of you are going top-side again until I say so."

"What?" Raphael shouted over the television, where an ad for toothpaste transitioned seamlessly into an advertisement for some sort of soda.

"We're not children," Donatello's brow furrowed beneath his mask. "You can't ground us just because it suits you." He yanked his hand away from April to point furiously at his brother. "Not anymore."

"I can if I think it's in the best interest of the team," Leonardo replied, unmoved. "And I will. No one goes up until this all blows over. Your fifteen minutes of fame, the anomaly, all of it."

"But - " Donatello attempted to argue.

"This is not a discussion."

Donatello's hands balled into fists, but he said nothing further. April could practically hear Donatello's teeth grinding. And then there was nothing. Not a protest from Raphael. Not even a defeated sigh from Michelangelo. Silence swelled in the living room like a noxious gas, invisible, but utterly palpable. Just when April thought they all might choke on their own wordlessness -

"Are you done?" Donatello asked, expressionless.

Leonardo only crossed his arms over his plastron. April sighed in exasperation. _Thanks, Dad_.

"Come on Don," April gently placed a hand on his carapace. "Walk me out?"

"I would be happy to," he said. "As long as that's alright with _you_, Leo."

Leonardo glowered, but made no further remarks. Seizing the opportunity, April grabbed Donatello's arm and stalked away, wet sneakers squeaking in protest with every step. "G'night guys!" she called, not looking back.

"Night April!" Michelangelo called meekly. April ignored Raphael's grunt of acknowledgement, and tried not to let the weight of Leonardo's gaze slow her pace as she whacked the turnstiles out of her way, yanking Donatello along with her. Donatello sputtered as he whipped around behind her. April smirked. It was kind of cute.

April barreled through the door. Once Donatello was beside her, she slammed it behind them. Only when they were alone did she draw a deep breath of stagnant sewer air. She had never thought a mouthful of sewer smell could be such a relief. But it was. Out of sight and out of earshot, she felt her shoulders slump, exhaustion the only consolation prize of the evening.

"Well that could not have possibly gone worse," Donatello rubbed his eyes under his glasses.

April shrugged, buried her hands in the pockets of her hoodie. "You could've actually said her name out loud."

Donatello sighed. "What I really wanted to do was punch him right in his smug – "

"I'm glad you didn't."

Her hand found a way back to his.

"So," Donatello began, shyly, casting his gaze to the tunnel floor.

April grinned. "So what?"

"So who should keep this?" Donatello produced the thumb drive like device from his utility belt, holding it up to her between his thumb and forefinger.

She drew a quick, sharp breath. The anomaly recording. She had almost forgotten in the emotional landslide caused by Leonardo swinging his dick around like that. Her face crumpled at the thought, reminding herself not to be _too_ harsh. Donatello had been seen, after all. Leonardo's blue eyes flashed in the recesses of her mind, cold and calm, but unable to belie how he truly felt. And she wondered, thinking of those hurt blue eyes, if the wounds from that night all those years ago would ever heal, or if they would always be there, just below the surface, waiting to be dredged up anew by every crisis, any argument.

Donatello was wrong. The evening could have gone so much worse. If Donatello's anger had become completely unbridled, it could have caused a deluge. In the years since that night, they had never spoken of it. Not the fight. Not their losses. Not her. Leonardo was right to be cautious, she realized. He knew from experience what came of being reckless with your heart. But that was not Donatello's burden to bear. Gentle, timorous Donatello, who had come so far out of his comfort zone he might as well have been on another planet.

The anomaly flashed in her mind's eye, dark and ominous through that telescope. There was a whole new world unfolding between them, above them; _around_ them. And in that moment, all the possibilities before them kept the fear of the unknown at bay. April almost smiled.

Her eyes fell over Donatello's outstretched hand, and his fingers, which she had entwined her own with so easily just moments before. But now that they were alone again, she hesitated to touch him, almost afraid of what that might lead to in the safety of their solace. Even if it was only temporary.

"I think it'll be safer with you," she said, finally.

Donatello nodded and pocketed the device. "I'll throw it up on the cloud when I get back to the lab."

"Thanks," April chuckled. "But no hurries no worries."

"What?" Donatello's brow ridge arched.

"Well, I mean, now that the media has evidence that aliens exist and are roaming the rooftops of Manhattan, the footage is hardly breaking news," she rolled her eyes, leaning back on her heels, making her wet sneakers squeak.

"Ha ha," Don said, dryly. "Very funny."

"I thought so," April shrugged.

Donatello shook his head, but still, he smiled. "Text me when you get home?"

"Of course," she said.

Her eyes met his, and she wondered how it had been so easy to touch him before. She bit her lip, then bit the bullet. She popped up on the tips of her toes, wet socks crowding her toes in wet sneakers, and kissed him on the cheek. When she pulled away, his face was flushed pink. She wondered if hers was, too.

"Not bad for a first date?" Donatello smiled lopsidedly.

"Not bad at all." April's face cracked in a smile. She wondered why it hurt, until she realized that she had been doing it all night.

A/N: Oops. I know Donatello is better than this. We allll know Donatello is better than this. But sometimes love just sweeps you off your feet and it's all you can see. After years of Don and April being on the Will-They-Won't-They hamster wheel, they've hit the ground running and it is becoming their new normal. Sometimes that just happens when you find the right one, huh? You just fall into it. Thanks for reading; I hope you're enjoying the ride and appreciate all the encouraging comments!


	6. Chapter 6

The video of the anomaly flickered in the darkness.

Donatello's eyes narrowed at his computer screen. The vast nothing seemed to stretch across the sky without end, jagged and unforgiving in its eclipsing of the moon (even though it was most definitely _not_ an eclipse). Donatello rolled his eyes. How the media had managed to convince anyone that it was an eclipse for any amount of time was simply astonishing. The turtle dragged a finger across the trackpad, speeding through the footage he and April had collected the week before. He blinked in the dark. Had it really been a week?

His eyes darted to the wall of screens flickering in the darkness of his lab, one of them was still on Channel Six, which prominently displayed the date in the headline. An image of the anomaly hung in the right corner while Carlos Chiang O'Brien Gambe droned on in silence. Donatello sighed and propped his head up in his hand, scrolling on the trackpad with the other.

Donatello lifted his finger at exactly the right moment. He had enough time with the footage to know it in its entirety, now. He knew it to the second. He lifted his finger and leaned back in his chair, eyes intent on the screen. The blackness of the anomaly glinted in the shadow of the moon, vast and immovable as the earth itself, and then - then one of its edges shimmered and jerked as it glitched.

"Malfunctioning cloaking device. Has to be..." he trailed off. That had to be it. What else could it be?

He watched the glitch, his mouth slowly forming a thin line across his face. And then he yanked his finger back across the trackpad to watch it again. Donatello frowned. A week of examining the footage hadn't led him anywhere. He wasn't getting any further than the media. Or their alleged experts. And they had better equipment. And resources. The only real advantage Donatello had, as far as he could figure, was that he had actually encountered aliens, whereas the majority of life on this planet had not.

Closing his eyes, he tilted his head to the side, unable to fight its heaviness any longer. Though there were still New Yorkers that remembered the Kraang Invasion. His stomach lurched thinking about it. They had practically turned the city into a human internment camp. He could still remember the van rattling through that checkpoint in the dead of night, the pit of dread swelling in his stomach when the Kraang soldier questioned Casey Jones. And even when they had made it in, it hadn't been New York anymore. It was hell. How could people forget?

A new chat window populated at the bottom of his screen and the frown vanished from his face.

_Hey!_

Three characters from her had the power to course correct an entire bad day in a second.

_Hey,_ he typed back.

He hadn't seen her since that night. They had chatted every day, but it wasn't the same. Though their chats had become more frequent and furious in their response times, it was no substitute for her hand in his. They largely discussed the anomaly, April reporting on what was happening above, allowing Donatello to commiserate about what was going on below.

The news from topside hadn't been much better. Speculation continued to run rampant regarding the anomaly with no new facts to substantiate any of it. People were getting nervous with the big, black, immovable mass hanging over their heads. They were starting to wonder why it was really there, if it wasn't actually an eclipse. People were starting to wonder if they were going to go to sleep and wake up dead.

But still, the Midnight Sun hung in the sky.

This was bigger than New York, now. Though the city seemed to be taking it the hardest. Even April, a trained kunoichi, seemed on edge when she was out at night. She had informed Don that the streets seemed almost eerily empty, even in the early evening. But people were out in droves during the day, congregating in public, speaking in hushed voices. There were more people on street corners with hand painted signs every day. _The End is Nigh_.

Donatello wondered if they were right.

New York City didn't exactly have the best track records with extraterrestrials. First the Kraang, and then, less than a year later, the Triceratons had descended with their forces, their guns; their black hole generator that had ripped the world apart before their eyes. In one timeline, anyway. Donatello frowned. Was that what they were up against with this anomaly? He swallowed. Or was it something worse?

Eight days had passed since the first sighting of what the media continued to insist on calling the Midnight Sun, and there had been no movement. It just hung there in the sky. It made neither light, nor sound; no apparent effort to communicate. He had scanned the footage countless times now, searching for a sign. Light blinking out a code. A glyph. A projection. _Anything_ that might indicate the origin of the anomaly. And what it wanted. Why it was here.

Donatello had nothing to report that day. Largely because nothing had changed from the day before. Leonardo did his kata. Michelangelo played his video games. Raphael stalked the halls of the lair. They had all spent time with Donatello in turn, observing the anomaly over his shoulder until Donatello rewound the clip. Then rewound it again. And again. Until each of his brothers had eventually lost interest and returned to their regular routines.

So Donatello had nothing to report that day. Nothing interesting, anyhow. But as his chats with April had become more frequent, they had also become more in depth. She asked him about his day in sincerity. Not that she hadn't, before. But now – now things seemed different. Now it seemed like she really wanted to know about how he was, uninterested in superficial standard replies to questions like _how are you _and _how's your current existential crisis coming along_. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

_Remember to eat today? _April asked.

_Yes, of course_, he lied. But still, he smiled. It was sweet of her to ask. She knew how he got when he was engrossed in a project. _Any news up top?_

Ellipses.

_No. Adhita says the Astrophysics department isn't even looking into it_.

Donatello frowned. _Probably because someone up the chain has told them not to, _he typed.

_Shit_.

He chortled and curled his fingers around a cold coffee mug.

Ellipses quickly became characters in the chat box. _Maybe we should release the footage._

_Maybe_, he replied, his grip tightening around the mug in his other hand. He hated the idea of anyone else having any additional information in their own attempts to decipher the anomaly. He shook his head. It wasn't a mystery. Just a question, with an answer. An answer he was going to be the one to find.

More ellipses formed in the chat window, vanishing almost as quickly as they appeared. _Any progress with the footage?_

Donatello sighed miserably. _No_, he typed back, but before he could press enter to send his reply, the door to his lab flung open behind him.

Donatello turned to witness Raphael's hulking shadow spreading across the doorway, and silently cursed himself for not locking the lab door behind him when he had gone to the kitchen for coffee earlier that evening.

"Don't you know how to knock?" Donatello frowned.

Raphael stomped over the threshold, carrying something in his arms. Donatello's brow ridge creased, curious. It was making low sounds that he could not quite make out. Raphael threw the switch and all of the lab lights flared to life. Donatello blinked furiously, his pupils dilating to adjust to how painfully bright the lab had become.

"Darwin's beard!" he sputtered, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses.

Raphael stalked across the lab, brow furrowed, a frown etched so deep across his face that it might as well have been hewn from stone, leaving him with lines so harsh that Don wondered if it would leave a permanent scowl. Don exhaled sharply through his nostrils. Not like it wouldn't suit Raphael, but still.

Donatello rolled his eyes. "What do you want, Raph?"

Raphael's emerald green eye narrowed dangerously at his brother as he approached.

His only reply was to dump whatever it was that he was carrying in his arms onto Donatello's desk. Don blinked, his eyes still adjusting to the light. Raphael wasted no time in leaning over the desk, cranking up the volume. A voice crackled over static.

"Incident reported on –" the voice was cut out by white noise. "Suspected Purple Dragon gang activity."

Raphael crossed his broad arms over his cracked plastron.

Donatello frowned at his brother. "You know Leo hates it when you listen in on the police scanner."

"Yeah, well, we coulda been in on that if you hadn't fucked up, Don."

Donatello snorted. "Darwin forbid I make _one _mistake."

"That wasn't a mistake, genius," Raphael growled. "Getting' seen like that was a Grade A fuck up."

His thoughts raced back to that night, to the glorious feeling of April in his arms. Her mouth on his. And then – that desperately stupid security guard and their damnable camera phone. That blurry photo of his silhouette had been all over the news every night since.

"Look," Don swiveled around in his computer chair back to his laptop, where April was awaiting his response – "I know that's an honor normally reserved for _you_, but – "

"No buts, Don!" Raphael snapped, jerking his brother back around to face him. "You fucked up. Just say it."

"I already did!" Donatello snapped back. "You just didn't care because it was me getting grilled instead of you. For once."

Raphael frowned, but did not deny any enjoyment he had taken in witnessing Leonardo rake Donatello over the coals. Donatello knew Raphael was so accustomed to Leonardo's scolding that he knew all his lines by heart, and made sure everyone knew it, on holidays and special occasions, once the good sake got pulled out of the cabinet. He said nothing, only cracked his knuckles.

"Cool it," Don glared back. "It's not like the Purple Dragons are anything the NYPD can't handle."

"That's just it though!" Raphael shouted, qual parts furious and confused. "When was the last time you heard anythin' about _any_ Purple Dragon action?"

This gave Donatello pause. Since Hun's death the gang had been almost entirely inactive. Petty offenses at most. The streets had been so quiet since that night. The night none of them could talk about. But like he had said, the Purple Dragons weren't anything the NYPD couldn't handle on their own. They had only ever been dangerous in their partnership with the Foot. That was Leonardo's stance on the matter, anyhow. Donatello was unsure as to whether he agreed or not, but he was willing to entertain the notion if it would get Raphael out of his lab.

"You know the Purple Dragons are too stupid to be dangerous on their own," Donatello said, trying to sound calm. Reasonable.

Raphael's brow furrowed. "What's the s'posed to mean?"

"Nothing!" Donatello flinched, but when Raphael only stood there, somber and silent, Donatello slumped back in his desk chair. "We can't save everyone, Raph," Donatello said, trying to rub the exhaustion out of his eyes.

"Then what the hell is the point of -"

_Us?_

"Good question," Donatello interrupted before Raphael could get dangerously philosophical. He had neither the time nor the patience to have a discourse on the meaning of life with Raphael at that hour, when his brother would rather be above ground with a Purple Dragon pinned between his sai and a brick wall. Donatello's mouth flattened into a thin line across his face. But that was Raphael's raison d'etre, wasn't it? Why he always took it the hardest when they were on lockdown? Because he felt helpless.

"I'm going to figure this out," he promised. Whether he was making that promise to himself, or Raphael, or the universe itself, he did not know. But he meant it.

He had been so distracted by Raphael storming in that he had not even realized just what Raphael had stormed in with. The device his brother was using to tap the police scanner wasn't a radio scanner at all. Once he looked at it, actually looked at it, he knew exactly what it was. The shining chrome surface dotted with glaring hot pink hardware was unmistakable.

"Raphael," Donatello sighed. "Where did you find this?"

"Kitchen table," Raphael shrugged defiantly.

"It's mine."

"Then you shouldn'ta left it there," Raphael grunted.

Another sigh escaped Donatello, the wind draining out of him like a deflated balloon. "This is Kraang tech. Not a police scanner."

Donatello had scavenged the device from the smoking exoskeleton of fallen Kraang, and the damn thing had sat on one of the racks in the lab for months, until Michelangelo had knocked it off (and thus the ban against badminton in the lair had been instituted). He remembered leaving it on the kitchen table one night, adrift in the fog of his insomnia. He had gone to the kitchen for something, and brought it with him. He had been working on it that night. Fiddling with the frequencies, just for fun, to see if it was still functional after the Michelangelo incident. It hadn't picked anything up. Not that he could remember, anyhow. When he had woken up the next afternoon, in his own bed (not at the kitchen table), he hadn't given it a second thought.

Donatello blinked. "Kraang tech!"

"Wait – " Raphael began to argue, eyes wide as Donatello reached for the device on his desk.

Donatello ignored him, snatching up the device and running his hand over the smooth chrome. The alien metal was cool in his hands, even though the device was clearly on and functioning. Donatello ran his finger around the circle of the dial, changing the frequency. The police scanner chatter crackled and ceased.

"Hey!" Raphael snapped.

"You can listen to the police scanner on the internet," Donatello mumbled, continuing to adjust the frequency.

"Yeah, well, I don't have like, five computers like you do," Raphael objected.

Donatello had at least seven computers running at all times, but that was beside the point. He let it go and moved on. "I'll build you one."

He reasoned he could install an app on Raphael's t-phone that would tap the police scanner just fine, but he knew such easy access to the scanner would mean Raphael would never sleep again. And no one in the lair had a good day when Raphael didn't get good sleep.

Donatello twisted the dial, hurdling through each frequency the device received almost faster than the electrons could vibrate to make sound. The damn thing was picking up a storm of earth chatter, radio waves carrying useless information, voices droning on about how to deal with cheating spouses and discounts on laser eye surgery. Donatello's tongue popped out of the side of his mouth in concentration as he continued to adjust the device. He had to give it to Raphael for figuring out how to get the police scanner on the damn thing.

After all, Donatello had been certain that it was broken. Maybe that was why he never went back for it, after that night, only left it there on the kitchen table to be scavenged by one of his brothers. But Raphael had gotten it to work. And if it could pick up the police scanner, then maybe, just _maybe_, he could reconfigure it to reach whatever was up there, silently hanging over the Earth.

"How did you get this to pick up the police scanner?" he asked, his gaze drifting up to his brother.

Raphael frowned. "Good ol' fashioned American ingenuity."

"Hmm," Donatello murmured.

The chatter stopped, and silence swelled in the lab like a black hole. Earth's frequencies fell away, leaving only the silence of space. Donatello bit his lip and adjusted the dial. Static. He dragged a finger across the hot pink trackpad again, just a little further. Static. He tried again.

Silence.

"Well," Donatello murmured, tentatively. "Here goes nothing."

He tapped quickly on the Kraang pink pad.

Raphael raised a brow ridge. "You think those aliens know morse code?"

"You have a better idea?" Donatello asked, continuing to tap. The code was rudimentary at best, but at least this way, if there was anything alive on that ship – they would know there was someone on this planet attempting to contact them.

Donatello lifted his finger after the final tap, holding his breath despite himself. Behind him, Raphael stiffened, straightening himself, bracing himself against whatever came next. Donatello was too busy holding his breath to notice. After days of wracking his brain, and spending night after night staring at the footage until his vision began to blur – could it be this easy? Donatello chewed his lip, trying to stave off the clamoring feeling at the back of his throat as his body ached for more air. But still, he held his breath. And they waited.

But nothing came.

"Damn," Donatello swore, softly.

That's what he got for hoping for anything beyond what could be substantiated. In the eight days since the anomaly had appeared, it had made no attempts to communicate with Earth. Not that Donatello was aware of, anyhow. It had been foolish of him to think that it would start now, just because he turned on a Kraang radio.

Tired eyes drifted to the clock at the bottom of the computer screen, and Donatello sighed. It was late. And he was tired. So tired. He propped his elbows up on his desk and plopped his head into his hands.

"So," Raphael began. Then paused.

"Yes Raph?" Donatello asked, his words muffled by the palms of his hands.

"You're still gonna build me a new computer, right?"

**A/N: **_Sorry for the hideous lapse in updates! The latter half of 2019 ended up being one of the most bonkers periods of my life, but I thought it might be fun to try and get something up for those of us who have a little holiday downtime. Thanks for all the faves and encouragement in the time between the last chapter and this update; I hope you enjoy it! _


	7. Chapter 7

All it took was four words.

_Are you free tonight?_

April had asked, over text, which somehow felt so much more intimate than chat, for no real reason at all. It just did. Donatello answered as soon as he woke up that afternoon, but several hours after she had sent the text message earlier that morning. He hoped that made him seem cooler than he felt.

_Of course_, he had texted back, with shaking fingers, his hand clammy around his t-phone.

Everything and nothing had changed all at once after that night on the stairs leading up to the observatory. But she was still April. She had swung by the lair a thousand times. Even lived there, for a time, when things had gotten weird topside. And things had gotten weird more than once. She still had a change of clothes and boots in the closet down the hall. April didn't need to ask to visit. But she did. Because she wanted to visit him.

So Donatello hunched over the sink, furiously scrubbing calcified pizza cheese off a plate. It wasn't as if April hadn't seen the sink full of dirty dishes before. She had been just as guilty of contributing to dirty dish mountain as any of the turtles in her temporary residencies in the lair. But things were different, now. Weren't they?

_Of course things are different, _Donatello thought, mercilessly decimating an onset of mold that had colonized the back of the refrigerator behind Michelangelo's homemade yogurt. He and April were talking incessantly. They were making plans. They had even kissed. _Actually_ kissed. Donatello felt the heat rise in his cheeks just thinking about it. That wasn't a _Thank You, Donnie_ kiss, or an _Oh You're Still Alive THANK GOD_ sort of kiss. It was a kiss. An actual kiss.

Donatello's mouth involuntarily curled up into a wobbly smile. He had kissed April O'Neil. And he was going to do it again. _Tonight_. He folded a recalcitrant old pizza box in half and forced it into the garbage with his foot.

"Success," he said aloud.

The last time he had seen her was when Leonardo had gone Mount Vesuvius on him. Donatello sighed just thinking about it. Leonardo had had good reason. He had violated one of their most important rules. Not just of the Hidden Door, but of their lives. Never be seen. They had been seen, before. When they were younger. Inexperienced. Naive. Donatello's skin began to crawl, thinking about Spider Bite howling at them, brandishing that phone, just out of reach. But thankfully no evidence of the _kung fu frogs_ had ever seen the light of day. But his photo had.

He silently admonished himself as he swept. _Stupid¸ _he thought, pushing the broom around the kitchen. _Stupid stupid stupid_. And then he remembered the way it felt to touch her; how warm her skin was. How something inexplicable had surged up his shell when her fingers curled around his that night, despite Leonardo's icy stare. _Stupid_, he smiled. _But so worth it. _

Donatello rested the handle of the broom against his plastron and tapped his smart watch. If April was on time (which she usually was), she would be arriving in one hour and twenty-six minutes. He blinked. What was he supposed to do once she got here? Order a pizza? He shook his head. _Too trite_. Review the footage of the anomaly? His eyes rolled involuntarily. If he watched that video one more time he was fairly certain his eyes might actually bleed. Although... his free hand drifted to hs belt, where the Kraang communication device hung, still and silent. It had been at his side at full volume since he had wrested it from Raphael, though all that had come of it was silence. And then Donatello snapped his fingers.

He would take April back to the lab and they could try retuning it. Perhaps her innate Kraang powers could help boost the signal? His pulse quickened at the thought of actually making contact, before his stomach lurched. _The lab_, he thought, eyes wide behind his glasses. _The lab is a wreck!_ He wrung his hands around the broom handle.

_Where there's a will, there's a way, right_? Donatello leaned on the broom. Unfortunately the way to a cleaner lab would take more than sheer will and a time frame of one hour and twenty-six minutes, because that night, April O'Neil was three minutes early.

She intercepted him trundling down the hallway with an armful of dirty coffee mugs.

"Hey," she smiled up at him.

"Oh!" he remarked, startled, nearly dropping one of the many mugs precariously piled in his arms.

"Need some help with that?" April arched a brow.

"Oh, no," Donatello smiled back nervously. "I'm fine. Really. Uh, I have a surprise for us. For you, really," he went on, feeling like an idiot, for smiling like that in front of her. It was one thing to do it in the safety of his lab, unseen behind his computer screen after she'd said something clever. But she was here, now. "It's In the lab. On the work table."

"I have something for us, too," April replied, unsheathing a bottle of red wine from her messenger bag.

"Oh," Donatello blinked. "_Oh_."

"You're on a date, dip-shit!" Raphael hollered from down the hall.

"Aw, that's so sweet!" Michelangelo chimed in from the couch over the sound of The Chris Bradford Show reruns.

Donatello swallowed, hard, but April only shook her head. "I see why you left the surprises for the lab."

"Yeah," Donatello replied, trying not to blush.

"Is it a salty surprise?" Raphael shouted. He hardly even had to try to be louder than the television.

Donatello turned painfully red.

"Come on, dude," Raphael laughed. "You totally set yourself up for that one."

"Did I?" Donatello blinked.

April squeezed his shoulder and shook her head. She laughed, but not unkindly.

"What?" Donatello asked, trying not to sound nervous.

"It's just been a while since I've seen you blush like that," April smiled at him again. "It's sweet."

Donatello sighed, shifting his weight to keep the mugs from toppling out of his arms and to certain destruction. "Be right there," he said, turning away from April to shuffle down the length of the hall to the kitchen.

He returned to the lab bearing two (clean) coffee mugs and a wine bottle opener, and found April sitting at bench at his work table with quiet, sad eyes. He knew that look all too well. She got that way, sometimes, after the dust settled, in the quiet aftermath of battle, when all the Kraang exoskeletons were little more than sparking heaps rendered limbless on the ground. She always had that same, cloudy, faraway look in her blue eyes afterwards, wondering what had happened to her mother.

"Raphael was using it as a police scanner," Donatello explained. "I thought, maybe – "

"We could use it to contact the anomaly?"

Don swung the door shut behind him with his foot. "Something like that."

"Sounds like it could be worth a shot," she grinned, putting on a brave face. "But first, wine!"

The bottle of wine gleamed under the high intensity lamps lighting the work bench. Don set the mugs down beside it, and the bottle opener clattered against the chipped edge of his E=MC Hammer Squared mug that Leonardo had dumpsterdived for him several Christmases ago. Though years of dishwasher runs had faded the pattern, countless Mc Hammers still danced across its ceramic surface.

"Do you really want to make first contact drunk?" he arched a brow ridge.

"One glass of wine does not a drunk April make," April deftly fished the bottle opener out of Don's mug.

The familiar chugging sound rolled through the lab over the slow hum of Donatello's servers. As the red liquid sloshed out of the bottle in April's hand and into the mugs on the table, Don felt his cheeks redden, wishing he had actual wine glasses to share a drink with April with, not just dumpster-dived garbage that had been made for something else entirely. But April didn't seem to mind. She topped off her own mug of wine with a twist of her wrist.

"Cheers!" her eyes met his as she lifted her mug. "To first contact."

"To first contact," Donatello lifted his E=MC Hammer Squared mug to meet hers.

As he gingerly sipped at the edge of his mug, his gaze fell on the Kraang communication device on the work table, silent. April's fingers curled around the handle of her own mug and he knew she was staring at it, too. He wondered if she could sense his thoughts, and how they raced, careening like a race car with no brakes from the anomaly to her, and how close she was. He began to chew his lip and his mouth filled with the taste of red wine and angst all over again.

"I've had it on since I reappropriated it from Raphael last night," Donatello said softly.

"And?" April took another sip of wine.

"And nothing," Donatello shrugged. "I sent a message via morse code, but no response."

April winked. "Have you tried turning it off and then on again?"

"Ha ha," Donatello took a drink and wrinkled his nose. "Very funny, O'Neil."

April chuckled quietly at her own IT joke and Donatello rolled his eyes, hoping it would belie the fact that it wasn't actually a bad idea. He glanced at the silent Kraang tech and mulled it over, wondering if it would work. Sometimes a quick reboot was all it took. And sometimes you turned something off, and it never came back on again. Donatello swallowed. April reached across the table and turned the dial. With a click, the glaring pink light faded to darkness.

Donatello's face settled into a frown. Even without her powers of intuition, he knew what she was thinking about. She was thinking about the shard. She had hardly used her powers at all, since parting with it. Without it, her powers paled in comparison. She had said it was for the best. The crystal had been too powerful. Too tempting. And all too aware of what it was capable of, with April as its conduit. Her thoughts were written across her face, as obvious as the freckles dotting her cheeks. _What am I without it?_

"I dunno, Don," her eyes darted from the device to Donatello and then back again.

"If you don't want to I completely understand," Donatello reached for her hand and gently closed around it. In his rush to clean the lab, he had forgotten. "Really. I do."

"It's not that. It's just – " she smiled a sad smile. "It's just been a long time."

Donatello nodded. It had. After the crystal crisis (as Michelangelo called it) April had almost stopped using her powers entirely. And with school…it had been years since she had been on patrol with them. She had moved on with her life. Donatello banished the thoughts of west coast schools from his mind. She was here, now; with him.

"Do you want to try?" he bit his lip.

April nodded.

A grin spread across Donatello's face. "Excellent."

April knocked back her wine and the mug clattered on the surface of the work bench. She took a deep breath. "Let's do this."

Donatello turned the dial and the device flared to life again. The space between them crackled with something electric, which faded into nothing, leaving only dead air in its wake. April was staring at the communication device, chewing her lip.

She squirmed on her stool. Her fingers tightened around her mug full of wine, which was no longer all that full. Its red contents sloshed to and fro as she shifted her weight.

"Here," Donatello said gently, reaching for her hand. His hand closed over hers and she smiled at him. It made him feel like he could do anything. "I'll go first."

Donatello began to tap out another morse code message to the void.

_This is Donatello of Earth_. _Do you read_? Donatello sighed. _Well_, _not __**that **__Donatello_, he thought, oscillating between dots and dashes on the radio frequencies. He considered dropping Professor Honeycut's name. Would they know who that was? Would they care? Would it instantly align them as an enemy to the anomaly? Donatello swallowed. What was he supposed to say? _We come in peace?_ He snorted.

"What?" April asked, tilting her head to the side out of curiosity.

"Oh," Donatello rubbed the back of his neck. "Nothing. Nevermind. Dit, dit, dit…dah," he mumbled the code to himself. He switched channels and tapped out his message again, sighing miserably. "That's all we're getting. Nothing."

April frowned.

"Nothing nothing _nothing_," Donatello wheezed in frustration. Just as he was about to throw his hands up in defeat, April spoke.

"Let me."

April closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. Donatello swallowed. When she opened them, her eyes were a spectral white. He had forgotten how she changed. She had hidden this part of herself away for so long that he had almost forgotten how dangerous she was. Donatello watched as she raised her hands to her temples and pressed two fingers against each side of her face. She closed her eyes once more, and Donatello watched in horror as her features began to contort.

The lights flickered.

April opened her eyes, and the lab went dark.

The Kraang communication glowed pink in the black. Down the hall came a scream, followed by the sound of something heavy hitting the wall. Donatello shrunk into his shell slightly. Someone must have been playing pinball.

A gruff voice screamed something that sounded a lot like _What the __**FUCK**_ _Don_, but Donatello chose to ignore it. He focused on April's eyes, glowing white in the dark. He fought the impulse to reach out, to hold her hand – to let her know she was not alone. But she was not there. She was somewhere else; utterly outside herself. Entirely alien. It was terrifying and awesome to behold. Donatello had forgotten. He had forgotten how powerful she truly was.

Between them, the Kraang communication device flared so brightly in the darkness that it was painful to look upon.

And then, it sputtered, strobing pink and black. April inhaled a sharp, shuddering breath. The lights came on, all at once, and Donatello blinked uncomfortably as his eyes adjusted.

Donatello searched her face in the light. She shook her head. Couldn't seem to look at him; only the workbench. She shivered and rubbed her shoulders. He watched gooseflesh travel up her throat, making the little red hairs at the nape of her neck stand on end. When she looked back up at him, her eyes were blue.

"You okay?" he asked, voice hoarse.

She nodded weakly.

"You sure?" Donatello reached for her hand. "Can I get you anything? Something to eat? Some water?"

"I think you were right, Don," April picked up her mug and squinted with one eye. "Maybe it wasn't the best idea to attempt to make first contact drunk." She winked, but her face faltered, crumpling in doubt.

Donatello smiled at her joke, even though as far as Donatello could tell, she was perfectly sober. Just shaken up. And then, the sound of something very large and very heavy hitting the floor reverberated down the hall. April stiffened on her stool.

"You might wanna lock that," she said, pointing to the door behind him.

"I concur," Donatello said, mouth dry. He locked the door, throwing the deadbolt and the slider. "Raph's been a little more…pent up than usual. You know, since Leonardo grounded us."

Donatello swallowed, trying to force the lump in his throat out. He had hoped that April's powers would have allowed them to reach the anomaly. But hope was dangerous. Hope was unsubstantiated. Hope was little more than a wish, a dream – and just as unreliable. They had been grounded for a week, and he wasn't sure how much longer any of them could live with Raphael. Given that he was currently unable to vent his frustrations on Purple Dragons and petty crooks, he had taken to the pinball machine, but Donatello knew that could only occupy his attention for so long. He had a sinking feeling that after tonight he would be next on Raphael's list.

"Don't worry," Donatello smiled at her. "I won't tell Raph it was you that knocked the power out."

"Only because you asked me to!" April laughed.

Donatello's breath caught in his throat at the sound of her laughter. He caught her eye and she smiled, before she began to shake again. Donatello's mouth flattened against his muzzle. He leaned up on tiptoes, surveying the top of one of his shelves.

"Catch!" he said.

April caught the protein bar, but just barely. It almost soared past her face and into the debris field of the lab, but she caught it, just in time. She peeled the wrapper off with shaking hands, and ate with slow, deliberate bites. Donatello joined her at the workbench and sat, staring at the silent Kraang tech between them.

"You sure you're okay?" Donatello asked once April finished the protein bar.

"Yeah," she nodded, crumpling up the wrapper and tossing it into one of many waste bins scattered around Donatello's lab. "I just feel…strange. Like, all of my senses are turned up to eleven. Really heightened, you know?"

"I can imagine," Donatello said, though he was not sure he could.

They sat adjacent, in silence. Once Raphael's trashing abated, the lair settled, and the lab became almost impossibly quiet. The Kraang tech glowed pink, but showed no sign of change. Donatello chewed his lip as he stared at it. He stared at the damn thing for so long that it began to blur before his eyes. The turtle shook his head and looked back up at April, who seemed to be seeing the same thing.

"What did you say?" he asked, quietly.

"Hmm?" April's blue eyes focused on his. "Oh. To the anomaly," she paused and massaged her temples, as if she was trying to rub the tired out. "I said, if you're out there – we want to help."

Donatello smiled a broad, gap-toothed smile at her. After all the loss April had suffered at the hands, tentacles, and various appendages of extraterrestrials, she still had it inside her to be kind. The turtle rested his elbows on the workbench so he could prop his head in his hands and just stare at her.

"What?" April blushed, digging her hands into her hoodie pockets. "Did I say something wrong? Something stupid?"

"No," Donatello replied, only continuing to smile. "Of course not."

"Then why are you staring at me like that?" a nervous smile broke across April's freckled cheeks.

"Because I love you."

April blinked back at him, and his stomach dropped. His thoughts ran through a litany of swear words. He hadn't meant to say it – not now. Not like _that_. It had just – happened.

The words had just fallen out. Just like that. And there was no taking them back. She knew, of course. She knew. She had known for years. But he had just made it weird; just when things were getting good.

"I know," April said, quietly.

Donatello stared blankly back at her.

Of course she did. He had spent what felt like the entirety of their youth pining over her. The nicknames. The overbearing behavior. All of it felt so embarrassing, now. But still, she was here with him, now. And she knew. She had always known. Like he had always known.

From the moment he saw her, he had known. There had been so many nights where he had laid sleepless on the couch in the lab staring at the ceiling, watching the constellation of her freckles unfold into an image of her face in the dark. That had all stopped, when she and Casey officially made it a thing. When they were together, he had stopped using the pet names he had cherished as a teenage boy. He had stopped checking in on her. Stopped inserting himself between her and danger. For the first time in their lives, he stepped back, because he knew he had to let her live her life; without him. But still. After all this time, she knew.

_I know_.

"Wait," Donatello covered his mouth. "Did you just – "

"Han Solo you?" April smiled a sheepish smile.

"You totally just Han Solo'ed me!" Donatello laughed, nervously.

He wasn't sure exactly which one Han Solo was, but he was pretty sure he was piloted the USS Enterprise. There was some famous scene at the end of one of the movies, with a princess. According to science fiction, space was full of princesses. But Donatello had never met any on his own travels through the stars, so he was still a little incredulous about the whole space princess thing.

"I'm sorry," April began.

"Don't be," Donatello replied without hesitation. Though his face felt heavy with a crestfallen expression. "Don't apologize for how you feel," his shoulders sagged, slightly. "You feel how you feel."

"Oh there are feelings all right," April let out an awkward chuckle. "It's just. This is just - " She ran a hand through her hair, and the smell of her shampoo almost overwhelmed him.

"Still new." She finished.

_For you_, Donatello thought as he smiled. But if April needed time, he knew he could give her more. He would give her the world, if he could. Time was not enough. But if that's what she needed, he would give her that, too.

They exchanged a glance, and Donatello felt the heat rise in his cheeks again. He looked away, back to the communicator on the table and sighed. This whole evening was starting to feel like - Donatello grimaced, thinking of Michelangelo's colloquialism. An epic fail.

April shrugged. Smiled. Segued; "Come on," she said, reaching for his hand. "We can't just sit here staring at this thing all night."

"Of course we could - " Donatello began to protest, gesticulating at the Kraang tech between him with wild hands. "What if - "

April held up a single finger. "I said I would do the thing. I did the thing. It didn't work. Now let's hang out," she smiled at him. "You. And me."

"But we could hang out here," Donatello argued feebly. "With the communicator."

April was already dragging him away from the workbench. His eyes remained locked on the Kraang communication device as she guided him to the couch. Donatello glanced back over his shoulder, almost tripping over his own feet. The device maintained its eerie, preternatural pink glow in its silence. He bit his lip. He had been sure that April's powers would have given them another shot. But -

"Hey," April said, her voice commanding and gentle all at once. It was almost enough to jerk Donatello from the mire of his disappointment. He sighed. She cupped his cheek in the palm of her hand. "We'll find another way."

He raised his brow ridge at her. "Such as?"

"I dunno," April's lips creased at the corner of her mouth, slyly. "But I'm pretty sure I've got a couple of cans. Maybe Michelangelo has some string to tie them together with…" she trailed off, looking up into his eyes.

"Ha ha," Donatello rolled his eyes at her.

April shook her head and shoved him backwards. His shell bounced off the cushions of the old, dusty lab couch. She stood above him, grinning. "Come on, Dee. Take a break."

"April, I'm not messing around here," Donatello wheezed from the couch.

"Well that's too bad," she said, her voice low as she slid over his plastron to straddle him. "I think a little messing around could be fun."

Donatello frowned. "This is serious."

"I _am_ being serious," April leaned in to plant a kiss on his cheek. He felt her lips turn to a smile against his skin. "I mean, come on. We have to figure out how to get that other can up there."

Donatello leaned up, glancing over the edge of the couch and back at his workbench. Still silent. He sighed miserably.

"Donatello," April said sternly. "Are you going to help me with this, or am I gonna have to do all the work myself?"

"Help you with what?" Donatello asked absentmindedly, still staring at the communication device. She cleared her throat, and he slowly turned back towards her.

Above him, April O'Neil was pulling her NYU hoodie over her shoulders.

**A/N: **_Annnnd something sweet, since you know. It's Christmas. _


End file.
